The Shattered Soul
by elle-nora
Summary: Now Complete! Sequel to The Pilgrim Heart. In Paris Duncan and Methos search for Darius' last student as a mysterious immortal begins killing mortals and immortals alike. On the road, Phillip considers contacting Cassandra to help the traumatized Derrick.
1. Prologue

****

Highlander: _The Shattered Soul_

It's a prophecy of long ago

It's a blueprint for the journey home

And we're writing as we stumble on

Making history to build upon

~from _Shaping Space_ by Kevin Max

****

Author's Notes: 

The following story is a sequel to _The Pilgrim Heart_ and opens immediately following the conclusion of that story which can also be found on this site.

One confrontation that was originally planned as a part of that story was removed in the editing stage and re-worked so that the relationships between those involved could be better explored. This change opened up the story so that additional characters, both canon and original, could be involved. A flashback originally planned for that story was substantially re-written and developed more fully so that it is now a major element of this story.

**__**

Highlander, the concept of Immortals and Watchers, and all canon characters appearing in this story or mentioned in passing are the property of Davis/Panzer. All others are original with me. This story is not for profit... but it is for enjoyment.

While I have tried to fill in back-story and summarize what has gone before in this story cycle, I apologize in advance if I have failed to do so. I tried to make it possible to read this story without reading the others, but I don't recommend it. As before, there may be plot threads that get dropped, but will re-surface as the cycle continues. Nothing is in this story that is unimportant. All things lead to the final answers.

Readers wanted more Aja... they will get that in this story as her past, her plans, and her death are all a part of this tale. I hope you enjoy it and look forward to your comments. 

~elle-nora'

****

Prologue:

__

Paris 455 c.e.

Darius moved among the peasants of the _Isle de Paris_ with a purpose in this life he had never known before. _All life is inter-connected. All creation came from a single thought and only when all life understands this... can peace be achieved._ The thoughts were echoes of the Ancient whose Quickening he had taken. The old one's life had flashed before his eyes as he had taken him... and in that flash... the world Darius had known had changed for him. _Power is a useless vanity. Only by serving others can we achieve the end result. Killing brings only an empty soul. Only by sacrifice can we be filled and achieve unity._

His hands, which had once held only a sword to slay others... now, sought to heal. He also worked at hard labor beside those he served and he had begun to study and learn all that he could. He listened to the holy men who wandered the land... hearing in their words much of what the Ancient's memories also whispered. Finding in their words... a possible future for himself.

Within him... the Ancient whispered that the only real power immortals have... the only limit to their existence... was their love... or lack thereof. _Love yourself and therefore love those about you. They are all reflections of who you are. If you hate... if you maim... if you kill... then it is only you that will be lost for all time. See the path... follow the way... all roads will lead to the source._

***

Darius felt the immortal long before he saw anyone. He'd been working with laborers on a ditch to help control run-off and sewage when the harsh rumbling of a thousand voices keening on the wind filled his head, momentarily stunning him. Finally, he straightened and looked about. He saw only the other workers... no stranger stood anywhere near... staring at him. He handed his adze to another and grasped the sword he had not quite given up... buckled it about him and wandered through the mud streets seeking the presence.

Near the gates... at the holy spring where he'd buried the Ancient's ashes he saw a hooded figure... sitting on the pile of stones over which the water bubbled. This was the immortal. "_Old_," he thought, "_very old... and very powerful_." Cautiously he approached.

One hand with long slender fingers raised and pulled the hood from a head of dark hair... shot throughout with locks of silver and tied back loosely. Two green eyes peered out from a smiling face he remembered from his long ago childhood.

"I might have known," Darius murmured aloud. "Anya."

"Was that the name I used then?" Her voice was rich and throaty... deep like the feel of her presence... rich as honey... sharp as the sword he carried. "I've used so many... I seldom recall them. But for you, my little warrior... I will be Anya if you wish." Her face reflected an age-old amusement... but there was a hint of warmth in that smile.

Darius' return smile reflected his own amusement. He unbuckled the sword and held it out to her. "You gave me this long ago... I have no need of it now."

Anya sighed and leaned forward resting her arms on her thighs. She made no move to take the sword... but her eyes regarded it with intense interest. "Are you so certain you wish to give that up? Without it... you will die. It may return to claim your life one day."

"Then I will give it... as the Ancient did."

Anya shook her head so that her dark but graying hair fell loose from the knot that held it back and tumbled about her shoulders like a great storm cloud. In the distance Darius heard thunder and wondered if it was related to this being from earliest days.

"He was always a fool... a dreamer... but I did love him once." She reached into the healing waters of the holy spring and let it pour over her hand. For several moments she said nothing further. Then... almost to herself... she whispered. "I should have known when you were a boy... when you held the sword and it was only a sword in your hands... I should have seen it then... but I was focused on another... on wanting him to find the answers... end the division. You were a surprise." She looked up at him and smiled once more. "You were certainly a surprise my little warrior."

"I am no longer a warrior." Again he held the sword out to her.

"Oh Darius... you will always be a warrior... it is a part of you. But now I think you will strive for something other than what you did before. Perhaps it is you who will one day find the answers and solve the puzzles."

Reluctantly she reached out for the sword. As soon as she claimed it... the expression on her face hardened for a moment. Anya closed her eyes... as if fighting with some inner demon. When she opened them again... her eyes flashed a little greener... but her face was once more one of calm and amusement. "Ask my beloved if he has forgiven me?"

"I do not understand?" Darius shook his head.

"He who is within... Ask him... do you not hear him speak?"

Darius nodded. "But they are only memories of what he knew... It's not as if he were still living. What he knew I know... at least... some of it."

"Not the oldest memories?" Anya asked. "Has he hidden those from you... Perhaps you are not yet ready. When you are... the world for our kind may well be changed. Perhaps he had his own plans... as I had mine... as my brother had his. Each of us sought to heal the rift... I think that sometimes we may have been working at cross-purposes to one another. Thus, nothing ever went quite how each of us planned." She rose and placed the sword within her cloak and adjusted the leather bag he recalled from his childhood. Anya leaned down to pick up her heavy staff, leaning on it as if she were greatly weary. "Someday he will forgive me... he has to... until then... I go on."

Anya began walking toward the gates.

Darius followed her, "Stay... you can teach me so much. You who knew the earliest days... you can share that knowledge so that it will never be lost. You can help us all to understand our purpose in this world."

"I have already shared it with another. One day he will remember it. One day... if he chooses, he will reclaim our past. And perhaps rebuild the world we once knew."

"Methos."

Anya paused and turned toward him, her eyes widened in surprise. "How is it you know this?"

"I learned some of it in the Quickening... I saw him afterwards... knew he had been the Ancient's student... I tried to give him the sword. But he refused it. As he left... some memory of who he was... who he had been came to me. I have kept that secret. I've told no one until now."

"Then keep it still, little warrior. When he is ready... he will tell you himself."

She resumed her leaving.

"Will you ever return?"

"Perhaps... remember what you saw in the stone of seeing that long ago day, my little warrior? One day... you may have to choose between what you saw and what you may one day discover. May you choose wisely." Her voice faded as she walked away... into the mists that began to rise from the river. In moments he could no longer see her... but he felt her diminishing presence for some time. At last... even that faded.

Uncertain of who she was beyond an Ancient Immortal... what she had wanted with him... what she might one day require of him... Darius returned thoughtfully to his labors... buoyed by the thoughts within... _In perfect service there is love. All life is one. Now and for all time... all that is, all that was, all that will be... all is one. In that unity is perfect peace._ Yet even as the Ancient's memories filled his mind... he saw once more the elusive vision of a masked woman dancing about a great bonfire. He had never told Anya what he'd seen... he'd told her instead that he'd seen himself leading an army. "_Had she known anyway?_" Darius wondered, but soon his labors and tasks occupied him. Anya's words faded... and with them... the memory of that vision he'd once seen in a glowing crystal vanished also. It would be more than eight hundred years before he thought of it again. 


	2. Part One: Hopes and Fears Chapter 1

****

Part One: Hopes and Fears

As the sand shifts cool beneath your feet

By the light of a dead end moon

Your haunted fingers on my skin so sweet

Your hair the darkest loom

~from _Dead End Moon_ by Kevin Max

****

Chapter 1

Paris, present day

Alisaunne shifted the torch so that she could clearly see the next paragraph. It was the gray-eyed, dark-haired, slender eighteen-year-old girl's turn to read aloud.

"_Duncan MacLeod emerged from the tub of warm soapy water. Upon his wet skin, water droplets sparkled in the firelight. Roxanne's breath caught momentarily in her throat as she watched one particular droplet slide oozingly down the Highlander's bare chest to rest in the dark hair..._"

"Ooooh... don't stop there Alisaunne..." Marisol squealed as the first girl began to giggle uncontrollably.

"I am sorry _ma cher_... it's just such bad, bad writing!"

"Who cares about the writing... I want to hear more of the description!" the honey-blonde Lisabet moaned... fanning herself as if in a great heat.

"All right... all right... just hush or Sister Margareta will hear us." Alisaunne tried to get her own giggles under control.

The three girls looked about the attic room fearfully and then re-settled to hear more readings from Alisaunne's latest pulp novel acquisition **_Blade of the MacLeods_** by Carolyn Marsh. The book was several years old and dog-eared... but that only meant it was well read. And... the girls had discovered... someone had hi-lighted some of the especially descriptive passages with a pink neon marker. They were in heaven.

If there is one thing teen-aged girls enjoy... it is reading about sex and romance.** _Blade of the MacLeods_**, with its painting of the near shirtless dark-haired Scot on the cover... definitely fit the bill. Alisaunne's unauthorized field trip to the used bookstore had certainly paid off this time.

"I wish I were Roxanne," Lisabet rolled over on her back and shivered in delight... kicking her heels against the floor in a slight drumming pattern.

"You wish there were any boy at _Sacre' Couer_ who would pay you any mind _cherie_." The red-haired Marisol tickled her plump friend. Lisabet was her best friend... and while Marisol felt she could tease the girl unmercifully... she defended her against anyone else who even tried.

All three girls sat up suddenly as the attic room door slowly opened. The bespectacled face of fourteen year old Chloe peered around the edge of the door. "May I join you? Or perhaps I should let Sister Margareta know where you three hide out?"

"Chloe... you snitch!" Marisol hissed. "This is for seniors only! You are far too young!"

Chloe pushed her glasses up on her nose and simpered, "Then I suppose I shall just have to tell the good sister..."

Alisaunne interrupted her quickly, "Don't just stand there little one... close the door and come on in."

"But she's a first year!" Marisol pouted.

"May... be... but do you wish her to tell Sister Margareta?"

"No!" But Marisol was clearly unhappy. She rolled over on her back and folded her arms across her chest... a sure sign she was pouting. Marisol's father was an ambassador and she had always been petted and spoiled. She was accustomed to getting her own way.

Alisaunne grinned at the fourteen-year old Chloe who eagerly settled onto the floor with the older girls. Chloe was a charity student... one who had been granted a scholarship at the school because of her test scores. "You can read English... can you not?" When the girl nodded, Alisaunne handed her **_Blade of the MacLeods_**. "Then read aloud the hi-lighted passage on page 57."

Chloe looked over the passage and her eyes widened. Her small mouth opened and shut a few times without a sound emerging. As her face reddened... the three older girls snickered at her discomfort.

"Never mind... little one... but you can stay and listen." Alisaunne retrieved the book and the torch and began to read aloud once more.

***

Alisaunne rubbed her eyes and re-settled her backpack on her shoulders. From her vantage point... neither Marisol nor Lisabet looked too with it this morning either. The other four senior girls in the group had noticed the reddened eyes and lack of conversation at breakfast on the trio's part and had quickly covered for them. Sophie had indicated in the van that she fully expected to be included in whatever the trio were up to next time. Alisaunne had nodded... too tired to care. But Sophie was such a puritan!

Now... the seven girls stood in a small group at the museum and awaited their assignment. Sister Margareta handed out the question sheets.

"To be certain that each of you works alone on this assignment... I have made a different set of questions for each of you. There is no duplication. The answers will be found by careful reading of the exhibit information about the various collections. You have one hour to explore the exhibits... then you will meet back here. We will then compare notes and discuss what we have learned."

When Sister Margareta nodded, the seven girls quietly and quickly separated to begin their hunt for answers.

Alisaunne scanned through her questions... she already knew the answers to fourteen of the fifteen. Her uncle had insisted she have a thorough background in archeology and history. As she wandered through the halls on her way to the Celtic exhibit on the third floor... she absently wrote in the answers to the others. This was excellent! She could get the date she needed for the question about Celtic swords and then she could curl up behind one of the exhibits and take a nap for the next hour.

She glanced down at the information card... got the date and finished her questionnaire. Looking around to be certain no one else was near this exhibit...Alisaunne ducked behind the glass case of swords and settled herself on the floor. She leaned her head against the cool marble wall and closed her eyes... she definitely needed a brief nap.

Two male voices startled her into instant awareness.

"Our thanks, Duncan, for the donations to our collection. We are most fortunate to have you as a benefactor."

"Not at all, Claude, just remember to keep my name anonymous."

"Of course. No one will ever know that many of the items in this exhibit come from the personal collection of Duncan MacLeod."

Alisaunne's eyes widened as she heard the name. She leaned forward and peered through the glass of the exhibit case trying to get a look at the faces of the speakers. One of the men was short, stoop-shouldered, and in his fifties... the other might have leapt from the cover of the book still hidden in her backpack. Beneath his dark hair Alisaunne could see he was mid-thirties... perhaps... broad-shouldered... powerful looking. She wanted to pinch herself to see if she were dreaming.

When MacLeod, if that were truly his name, glanced toward the case behind which she was hiding... Alisaunne took in a swift breath and leaned once more against the wall, fearful that she would be noticed. 

"Thanks again, Claude, for letting me pull this from the collection. I know I told you I had no need of any of these things... but..." MacLeod shrugged, "something's come up."

"It is not a problem, _mon ami_. And... you have more than made up for pulling one item by giving us three more. I wish all of our benefactors were so generous."

The two men continued into the outer corridor... their conversation too low and far away for Alisaunne to hear anything more.

Cautiously, she crept out of her hiding place and inched her way toward the corridor... eager to get a better look at this Duncan MacLeod. She peeked around the corner at the doorway and then pulled her head back once more.

"Are you still living on that barge down on the _Quai de la Tournette_?"

"For the time being. Give me a call... we'll do dinner one night while I'm in Paris."

When Alisaunne managed to peek around the doorway once more... the tall figure of Duncan MacLeod was descending the great marble staircase.

"A barge on the _Quai de la Tournette_," she whispered and quickly made a note of it inside the front cover of **_Blade of the MacLeods_**. She replaced the book in her backpack and headed for the second floor to find Marisol and Lisabet. Perhaps it was time for another of her unauthorized field trips. 


	3. Chapter 2

****

Chapter 2

New York City

"I see no sudden move in your near future... unless it is one of your own choice." Cassandra smiled sagely at her customer.

"Oh my... no move unless I choose. Whatever does that mean?" The elderly well-dressed woman clutched her purse compulsively to her chest and clucked her tongue while shaking her head.

"Only that your path is yours to decide. Now... that is all I see this day. Our time is up." Cassandra waved one hand imperiously at her client and nodded at her as if to conclude the session.

"Oh... my... yes... just look at the time. Thank you Miss Cassandra... I do so love your readings." The elderly woman rose, bowed slightly and allowed herself to be led out into the empty waiting room.

At the desk outside Melanie Pryor was taking a message on the phone and raised one hand to get her boss's attention as Cassandra was showing the last client of the day out of the door. Once the door was shut, Cassandra blew her hair out of her face and shook her head.

Melanie placed one hand over the receiver of the phone, "Cass... there's a Nathan Barlow on the line... He says he knows you and wants to meet with you."

Cassandra glided across the carpet, one hand outstretched for the phone. Melanie handed it to her with a shrug.

"Nathan... how nice to hear from you. It's been... ages." Cassandra's voice purred as she spoke.

"Right... can't talk," came the reply. "I have some information for you. Where shall we meet?"

Cassandra turned her back on her receptionist and leaned her tall, slender frame against the desk. "Drinks and dinner... how delightful. Why not pick me up here... I look forward to seeing both you and your lovely wife once more. Do you need directions?"

In the phone, the male voice answered briefly, "Twenty minutes." Then he hung up.

"Fine... fine... I'll be waiting." Cassandra turned back and handed the phone to Melanie. "An old friend... a dinner invitation."

"I gather he's married, though?" Melanie switched off the computer and pulled her purse out of the lower desk drawer.

"Hmmm... very." Cassandra smiled at the young woman and then spread her hands in apology. "Oh Melanie... I forgot we were going for drinks... Rain-check?"

"Sure," Melanie replied as she pulled on a light jacket and headed for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Once she was gone, the expression on Cassandra's face sobered from the mask she had worn as over-worked psychic to the upper class. She glanced in the mirror and tossed her wild mane of brown hair and checked her appearance. The ethnic jewelry over the unadorned jersey knit dress of dull red made her look slightly exotic... and approachable... but also slightly mysterious. She smiled, "Perfect!"

Cassandra checked to see that the outer door was unlocked, then, leaving the door to her inner sanctum open, re-entered it. She pulled her lightweight broadsword out from its hiding place in the covered bench and placed it within easy grasp... just in case. She settled herself once more at the small round table and pulled out the Tarot cards. She shuffled them slowly... then began to lay them out in an age-old pattern. Her long fingernails absently clicked on the tablecloth as she awaited Barlow's arrival.

True to his word... Nathan Barlow arrived exactly twenty minutes later. The man was nothing if not punctual. He opened the outer door and stood for a moment just inside the waiting room. Then closed the door... throwing the bolt. There would be no interruptions! Drawing his own sword he slowly crossed to Cassandra's inner office. He paused in the doorway to allow his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light within.

Heavy dark brown velvet drapes covered the windows and walls of the room. There was little furniture in the room... only a few hard wooden chairs that were placed against the walls. In the center, sat Cassandra behind a round table covered completely by the same material. A recessed ceiling light splayed a dim light above her... creating long shadows on her face.

Barlow chuckled, "Still setting the scene and choosing the path of the mysterious... ehh Cassandra." The thin, hawk-faced man with the high widow's peak of gray-brown hair bowed slightly to the older immortal.

She smiled at him in welcome and motioned to the chair on the opposite side of the table near where he stood. Barlow shook his head but sheathed his sword and took the offered seat.

Cassandra leaned back in the chair and rested her chin on one hand as she set one elbow on the arm of her chair. "You've found something?"

Barlow nodded, "I spent the last three years going through those old records in London... I referenced and cross-referenced everything. The crystal you described _was_ once in the Tower of London as you suspected... but has been missing since the latter half of the fifteenth century."

"Go on..." Cassandra gestured with her other hand.

"I checked court records... nobility records... who's who lists of court retainers... everything I could think of. The only one of us I found for certain in all that time was a Hugh Fitzcairn."

"Fitzcairn is dead now."

"Right... a few years ago in Paris?"

Cassandra nodded. "You could have written or phoned me this information. If Fitzcairn had the crystal he likely sold it. He was far too young to have realized what it was."

"Right... but in the records I did run across another name I thought you might be interested in. He was a visitor to the court about the same time as the crystal apparently vanished."

Cassandra leaned forward, "And the name?"

"Gerald Phillips, Earl of Madison."

Cassandra's eyes widened in surprise. "The Swordmaster..."

Barlow smiled as he nodded. "Now he's not been heard of in several centuries. But... he might still be around."

Cassandra nodded, "Yes... he is still around. I know him by another name. Was he alone? What makes you think he had any dealings with Fitzcairn."

"I don't... at least I found nothing in the records to suggest they even knew one another. But you did say you wanted to know who might have taken the stone and he's certainly old enough to have realized what it was." Barlow shifted in the uncomfortable chair. "As to his being alone... one record speaks of his being the brother of Lady Ellen Gray."

Cassandra thought of the mousy little student she had once seen with the Swordmaster... He had called her "Little Sister". She had been such a little thing... and so very young. "Was there a Lord Gray?" When Barlow nodded, Cassandra continued, "Explore the peerage and land records of this Lord Gray and his family. I've not heard of him... but perhaps a clue as to what happened to that crystal might be found in those files.

Barlow nodded and rose. He paused at the door. "I suppose the same conditions for payment exist?"

Cassandra nodded and watched the man leave. Thoughtfully she gathered the cards together and shuffled them once more. Then she slowly laid them out... smiling at the clues they seemed to offer her about her next step.

The crystal of the Ancient still existed. Cassandra was certain of it. For a while she had thought it lost... or perhaps in the hands of Rebecca Horne. But the one Rebecca had owned was slightly different... and it was in pieces... many of them now lost.

Besides... Rebecca's crystal offered only the hope of immortality. That Cassandra already had. The crystal she had once seen in the hands of an Ancient... the crystal she had once held and within which she had once seen the faces behind the masks of the Horsemen... that crystal was still in one piece. That crystal... she desired to find once more.

If it had shown her once that the horsemen lived and that she would one day find them... what would it show her now that vision had come true. She had found the horsemen... she had seen three of the four die through the intervention of young Duncan MacLeod. But he had turned on her at the last moment... and begged her to spare the life of the fourth. That had galled her!

She had left him then... determined never to see him ever again... until events changed. The fourth would live... she would not pursue him. But how long was a promise good for? Methos would turn on MacLeod one day... the Highlander would see the ancient one's true face... he could not have truly changed. When that happened... Cassandra wished to be there... to see the final payment for that ancient betrayal. She hoped the crystal would show her that moment... allow her to find the time and place to watch Methos die... not at her hands... but at the hands of the Highlander.

"The great crystal of seeing... you will be mine... none truly know its value or how to use it... save me." Cassandra stacked the Tarot cards on the table and rose, gathering her sword. She turned out the light and pulled the door closed. Pulling on her lightweight long coat, she placed the sword within it and left the locked office for another day.

Tonight... once she was home... she would email the Swordmaster. Perhaps, finally, he would do more than answer her. Perhaps, finally, he would tell her where to find him... let her meet with him. Even he was not immune to the power of her voice if she chose to use it on him. Perhaps he might tell her what she wished to know about the crystal. But... first things first... she had to get him to meet with her. One could not use the voice on email.

Cassandra reached the street and glanced up and down for a taxi. Seeing one... she stepped forward and raised her hand to wave it down. The taxi swerved out of traffic and over to the curb. The immortal psychic opened the door and entered, giving the driver a Park Avenue address. She settled back into the seat her plans for the evening made.


	4. Chapter 3

****

Chapter 3

Toronto

Derrick screamed out in his nightmare. Thrusting his arms wildly about he attempted to fend off his attackers.

"Shh... Derrick... it's only a dream... only a dream... you're with me... you're safe." Eleanor wrapped her arms about the ten-year-old boy and rocked him gently as she had often done in the first few months she had known him. Her low voice whispered in his ear its gentle reassurance that all was well. Gradually Derrick's struggles ceased and he went limp... asleep once more. Eleanor kissed his damp forehead and ran her fingers through his short sandy hair. The boy did not respond... evidently once more deeply asleep.

This time Eleanor left the Maglite turned on next to him and pulled the edges of the blanket tent the boy had made closed about him. He still preferred the floor. The small immortal rose and took a deep breath. The nightmares had begun again after the latest set of circumstances.

The boy had been standing beside Joe Dawson when the Watcher had been shot. He had been splattered with some of Joe's blood. That scenario, on top of what he'd endured in the previous few days... what with the school shootings, the deaths of his foster parents and a friend, their funerals, then the last kidnapping attempt, this time by Daniel M'Benga, had evidently been too much for the boy to take in.

Since leaving Seacouver with Phillip to travel slowly by car to the east to make certain no Watcher was on their trail... Derrick's nightmares had begun again and this time... Eleanor feared that more recent events might finally unlock the source of them. And the immortal was not certain if either she or Derrick were ready to face whatever it was that was locked in the boy's mind.

She sat down on her bed and clasped her upraised knees to her and laid her head on them. She glanced over at Phillip regarding her solemnly from the other bed in the motel room.

"I don't know much about kids... but I gather this kind of thing is not normal?" her teacher said with just the smallest hint of sarcasm.

Eleanor shook her head soberly, her not quite shoulder-length dark hair hanging loosely about her, but she could not refrain from a slight chuckle at Phillip's attempt to lighten the situation. "No... kids have nightmares... but not usually every night."

Phillip sat up in the bed and leaned on one elbow to talk quietly. "You say they happened before?" He absently scratched at his short brown beard as he regarded her with an even expression. The twenty-five hundred-year-old Greek soldier had known Eleanor for over eleven hundred years. He had found her in the forests of Normandy shortly after she had left her first teacher and had taught and guided the young woman off and on since in the intervening years. She was the only student he had ever truly taken over the centuries... although he had taught many immortals a move or two if he had found them worthy. Eleanor had always intrigued him... in her own diminutive way... she had always reminded him of Danae... his own teacher. Until recently... he'd never known why that was.

"For the first few months after I found him four years ago... he had them occasionally... then they faded away. I didn't pursue them... after all, Phillip... he's like us... so whatever family he might have had... they weren't any more related to him than I was... and as the nightmares faded... I thought maybe it was all for the best. But his nightmares did give me the idea for that 'Witness Protection' scam I pulled on the authorities back in Seacouver. I got all the paperwork ready and laid the foundation in case I ever needed to use it. I'd actually forgotten about it until I was at the school and realized his foster parents had been killed." Eleanor shook her head sadly. "Now I'm starting to worry that what's happened has brought back those old memories... I wish Sean Burns were still alive. He could have helped Derrick... I know he could have. We are losing too many of the good ones."

From the makeshift tent... the two immortals could hear Derrick whimper slightly. Eleanor rose once more and lay down on the floor next to him... holding him gently. At once the boy's sounds ceased, as if he knew someone was watching over him.

Phillip lay back down on the bed... but he doubted he'd get any further sleep that night. This road trip was turning out to be anything but pleasant and relaxing. He found himself longing for the quiet serenity of his island home on Niebos. "Soon," he thought. "Soon we will go. But I have to be very careful. There must be absolutely nothing left to chance."

Methos had warned him to be extra careful... to not rush anything. He'd given him several sets of documents for the two immortals and the boy. "Do whatever you have to do... but keep them safe." Methos had told him. "Even rusty... you are still a better swordsman than most of us." The problem was, Phillip wasn't too certain of that. And then, of course, there was that damned sword.

Phillip could still sense the sword whispering to him to claim it and to use it protect Eleanor and Derrick. But even knowing it was lying to him Phillip wanted that edge... that extra bit of ancient magic and power that might just mean the difference in life and death. They'd brought it into the motel room... being unwilling to leave it unattended in the car outside.

Phillip was beginning to wonder if Methos and Eleanor were wrong and that it was the sword's influence that was adding to the boy's nightmares. And yet... the boy truly seemed to have no interest in the damn thing. Alone of the three of them... he did not seem to hear it call to him. Phillip had held it only that one time... almost two thousand years ago. But even then... it hadn't really been his. He had never touched it since... being willing to leave such matters in the hands of those more able to deal with it.

He rolled over and stared at the lights blinking on and off on the far side of the drawn curtains. What he really wanted was to go over to the bar across the street and throw back a couple of stiff ones. But that would have to wait. He rolled back over and faced the wall. The shadows of the lights blinking around the edges of the blackout drapes still flickered before his eyes. Finally he closed them and tried to sleep.

Eleanor could hear Phillip roll over and back. She was as worried about her teacher and friend as she was about Derrick. She didn't think the genial Greek was really cut out for this duty any more than she herself was. Too much of her wanted to throw in the towel and just skip out on this whole situation... leave Derrick to the gentle ministrations of mortal authorities. Let someone else raise him... guide him... help him. The problem was... she no longer felt she had that option. She rubbed at the palm of her left hand and lightly traced the pattern of water on it. For a moment she could once more see the standing stones of the vision she and Methos had shared. Nothing made sense, yet. It was just visions... pieces of the puzzle... like the pages of Darius' research.

She stroked the boy's sandy hair and kissed his cheek. She cared about this boy... possibly too much. She couldn't leave him to others... in many ways... she _was_ his sister as he often called her. Or at least as much of a sister as any of them were able to have. And like any mortal big sister, she was determined that her little brother would live to grow up. He would be safe. He would be loved. He would be happy. And the shadows of the past would fade away into dreams no longer remembered.

When she was certain he slept deeply once more, Eleanor rose and crept back into her bed. She clasped the extra pillow against her thinking of Methos. She was surprised how much she missed him this time. Usually, when she'd leave... there was a looking forward to whenever the two of them would find each other again... but no regret that they were parted. This time was different. She absently felt her ring on her finger and wondered if by putting it back on... that she had re-opened her heart to a life she had long ago turned her back on. That and the ceremony they had begun... the one that would finally unlock the past, which was hidden in both of their minds... the past that they both feared but needed to face.

"Even when people are together... sometimes they are not really together," Methos had told her when they'd laid their plans for this separation. "And sometimes when people are parted... they are not really parted." Eleanor hugged the pillow closer and tried to smell him on his shirt she still wore. But the scent of him was already fading. Soon... the shirt would only smell of her... and it would mean nothing to her any longer.

At some point she must have slept. When she opened her eyes to the gray dawn peeking into the room, Derrick stood beside the bed... his eyes begging silently for her to hold him again. Eleanor moved the pillow out of the way and beckoned him into the bed. He curled up in her arms, his back to her, and seemed once more to sleep.

From the other bed... Phillip rose to shower. It was time for another day. They'd clean up... pack the car... eat breakfast at some fast food restaurant... and hit the road. Maybe today he'd sell this car if he saw the right used car lot... maybe he'd keep it another day or so. Phillip hated the modern world. He much preferred the days when he and other immortals could move a mile and become someone else entirely without anyone being the wiser. And sooner or later... they'd have to chance an airport.

Derrick lay wakeful on the bed with Eleanor. He'd almost remembered something last night. He was certain of it... something to do with... but once more the image faded and he had no words to describe it. All he knew for certain was what he had always known since the day that Eleanor had found him under that highway bridge four years ago. She was his sister and he belonged with her somehow. If he were ever to figure out just what that elusive memory was... he needed her to help him. He had her back again... and he would never let her go.


	5. Chapter 4

****

Chapter 4

Paris

When Duncan returned to the barge, his senses told him that Methos was still there. He climbed the gangplank and opened the door to the living quarters just as the elder immortal was turning off his cell phone. Methos stared at the phone a moment, shook his head, then laid it on the table.

"Any news?" Duncan asked.

"Joe's been moved to a private room. His condition's been upgraded to stable." Methos rubbed his eyes... then returned to his computer. On it he continued to flash through a number of scanned documents... seeking a key to their relationship. He'd been at it almost non-stop since MacLeod had left to retrieve the bag of old runestones from the museum. But... Methos was getting nowhere. The early success he and Derrick had when they had first put the disk into the computer had stalled. Methos didn't know if it was because he just no longer saw relationships between the words, symbols and drawings... or if it was because Derrick was no longer with him. "Did you get the stones?" he asked as he shifted another document to another row... then shook his head and returned it to where it had been.

"Yeah..." Duncan murmured as he poured the runestones from the leather pouch onto a table and started moving them around... trying to see if there was a message there. Finally he shook his head. "Well... if Darius left me a message in this group of stones... I'm not seeing it." There had been no guarantee anything would be there... but they had hoped. Darius had evidently left one stone behind for Ellie to find and that one had meant student. Since Duncan might have been considered a student... and he had cleared some of Darius' personal belongings from his cell at the church after Darius' death ten years prior... Ellie and Methos had hoped that, in the stones Duncan had kept, there might be a clue as to where the murdered priest had hidden the original research that he had scanned onto a disk for them to use... The research he had spent centuries on... the research that might offer them clues to their own immortal beginnings.

"Anyone could have cleared his quarters... I doubt he would have left a clue there." Methos shook his head and leaned back in his chair. He reached forward and closed the laptop. He absently rubbed his right shoulder... massaging it while he closed his eyes and tilted his head. His thoughts were of Eleanor... 

"Now you tell me." Duncan chuckled.

Methos started and then said, "Well... I did say it was a long shot. But we had to try."

Duncan crossed to the refrigerator and opened it. "Beer?" he asked as he pulled one out for himself.

"That'd be nice," Methos replied and caught the one Duncan tossed at him. He opened it and took a long drink... then set it down and picked up the cell phone to make another call.

Duncan settled on the sofa and tried to decide just what they needed to do now. The runestone likely led to someone in Paris. But the student might have been a mortal... or someone who had worked for Darius. And there was the entire business of the priest getting everything onto disk. He had never used a computer as far as Methos knew... Darius had not seemed at all interested in them. How had he known to do this... why had he done it?

Duncan had been trying to reconcile his personal memories of Darius with the additional information he'd gotten from Methos concerning Darius and his reasons for remaining in Paris. He had always known that while he was a priest, Darius had not necessarily been a Christian. He had studied many faiths and had held many beliefs in his almost two thousand years. Darius had believed he could best promote peace among both mortals and immortals alike from holy ground... by remaining there and teaching and showing by example that a peaceful co-existence was possible. What Duncan had never realized was that Darius apparently had also been seeking answers to the immortals' past and had worked with Methos and Eleanor in his attempts to gather information.

Duncan shook his head slightly, there were still many things he didn't know... and some things he likely would never know. Methos had told him, though, that Darius was very much as he had seemed... there had been no lies in what he was... there was just more to him than Duncan had ever realized. Perhaps the priest might have told him more if he had remained with him as his student... but that path was not one Duncan could easily follow at that time. He was too much the warrior... and while he could appreciate that Darius had given up that life... the Highlander was still too much Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod... champion for the people.

Darius had been saddened when he'd left... and always glad to see him... but whatever he might have told Duncan if the Highlander had remained... went unsaid. Now... after Duncan's battles with the demon Ahriman and his strange dreams of what life might have been like for his friends if he had never been... Duncan felt he might now be more willing to give Darius' point of view a new look. Even though his friend was dead... it did not mean he had been wrong. Duncan had placed all of this so far behind him... that when he'd met young Derrick a few months earlier... it had been an eerie sensation seeing and hearing reminders of Darius from a ten-year old. And then of course... there was the enigmatic Ellie.

The impish green-eyed immortal seemed to be the focus of everything that was happening now. It was she who had found the boy... she who gathered the research for Darius over the centuries... and she who seemed to have some hold over Methos himself.

Methos turned off the cell phone and held it dejectedly against his forehead as though lost in thought.

"Tim?" asked Duncan... thinking of the other Watcher who'd been injured. Duncan hadn't known the young man... but Joe and Methos had. He had been Methos' field Watcher in London and the victim of a vicious knife attack by the immortal Peter Taylor who had instigated the carnage that had thrown all of their lives into chaos recently. Methos had taken Taylor's head... but there had been a dark edge to him afterwards. It seemed as if he had revisited that time of his life when he'd willingly killed for sport and had enjoyed it.

"Tim's fine... but he's got a long recovery ahead. His vocal chords were so badly damaged the doctors are looking into a synthetic voicebox for him."

"It wasn't your fault... You do know that," Duncan offered.

"I know that... and it's not guilt so much as just a great weariness over everything that's happening. In my rather long life..." he winked at MacLeod, "I've always noticed that major events seem to happen in spurts and I have this rather horrible feeling that something else is going to happen."

"Yeah... you might have to buy me dinner." Duncan smirked, wanting to lighten the atmosphere somewhat. "_And you do feel guilty my friend,_" he thought soberly, "_You just don't want to admit it... afraid someone might think you actually care about all of us._"

Methos turned as if to make a reply but stopped short of saying anything. He glanced at the port side of the barge, the one against the wharf. Duncan felt it too. Someone had stepped onto the barge and was likely outside listening. The Highlander nodded at Methos and rose to check on just who was hanging about the barge. The older immortal remained where he was... out of sight... and hopefully... out of sensory range of whoever it was.

Duncan emerged into the late afternoon sun. Already the shadows were lengthening and a crisp breeze had sprung up along the river. Clouds were beginning to roll in and there was the feel of impending rain in the air.

He saw no one at first. Perhaps he'd been mistaken. A man walking a dog was passing by on the wharf... a young couple holding hands were on the nearby bridge... and yet... Duncan walked about on the barge... he still felt that someone was nearby. When he reached the gangplank... he paused... trying to clearly sense just who and what he felt.

There was a slight shuffle behind him. Swiftly Duncan turned in a defensive move... his arms up... and then froze. Hiding in the shadows on the barge was a schoolgirl. Duncan dropped his arms and, raising one eyebrow quizzically, asked, "Can I help you?"

"Are you Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod?" the dark-haired girl asked as she struggled to her feet. She wore a plaid skirt, knee socks, a rust colored school blazer over a white blouse, and she carried a backpack. When Duncan nodded, she smiled, her gray eyes gleamed. "Then you are just the man I have been looking for!" She stepped forward out of the shadows and handed him a tattered paperback novel.

Duncan groaned inwardly as he realized it was Carolyn Marsh's trashy novel. "_Not another one!_" he thought. Then he smiled at the obviously smitten face of yet another fan. "How may I be of service?" he said and bowed gallantly.

The girl squealed a bit in excitement and Duncan thought for the thousandth time since that damned book had come out that he wished he could have bought and burned every last copy.


	6. Chapter 5

****

Chapter 5

Nick Wolfe had just made it to the entrance of _Sanctuary_ when the storm hit. The rain had begun to pelt down in big heavy droplets. Soon it was a blinding sheet. Above him he could hear the far-away crackle of lightning and the roar of thunder. He paused just inside the door of the nightclub to watch the storm... wondering for a moment, as he so often did these days, whether it was a storm of nature... or something called up by the death of an immortal.

After Amanda had shot him and he'd returned to life as an immortal... he'd been devastated. This was not something he wanted or had ever desired. He had been ready for his death... even if he was a bit regretful that his life was over. Then had come that damned gunshot! That had been almost three years ago. So he'd had an interesting three years.

Amanda had sold the club to Nick's friend Burt and vanished. Nick had turned then to Liam Riley to help him make sense of what his life now would have to be. Liam had arranged for a teacher... David Maillot. This immortal was to help Nick through the beginnings of his new life and to teach him to fight. That was the big problem! Nick had spent too long as a cop to want to spend his time hunting for heads or taking them. In the end... he'd learned enough from the Frenchman to know how to survive... and then he'd bid him _adieu_. He refused to carry his sword on a daily basis... he'd insisted on that.

Oh... if someone challenged him and he couldn't get out of it... he'd fight... but he usually tried to get out of it. He was just too uncomfortable with the whole idea of "the game" as opposed to killing someone because they were evil or because they had personally injured either him or one of his clients. Nick continued to work in the private sector as a bodyguard and investigator for hire. He was living on the edge... as it were... and that was just fine with him.

"You working tonight for me or are you just here to let the rain in?" Behind the bar, Burt called out to Nick... breaking into his thoughts. Burt did not yet know of the change in Nick's life... nor anything about immortals. But Nick had figured it was likely only a matter of time. The slightly built and balding Burt had been Nick's first boss after Nick had left the police force. Burt was in private security and still had contacts on a government level from when he'd been in Special Ops. _Sanctuary_ made a nice cover for some of their activities. Besides, Burt seemed to enjoy owning the place.

Nick closed the door and took a seat at the bar. "Working... if you insist."

"I insist..." Burt closed the account books he was working on and pulled out a file folder. "I need you to do some re-con on this case for me." He tossed it to the surly young ex-cop. Nick had always been powerfully built... broad-shouldered and muscular... but in the last three years, Burt had noticed that his young friend seemed to have developed an almost cat-like and furtive sense of movement... almost like Amanda. He still didn't understand just why she had sold him the nightclub and left Paris... but it had been a good business opportunity... and despite his worries about her not quite being on the level most of the time... Burt had liked the comely young thief. Evidently she and Nick must have had some sort of disagreement before she'd left. Nick's surliness always deepened if her name was mentioned and he'd generally snarled that he didn't want to discuss _her_. But as time passed... he seemed to become more like her than he probably realized.

Burt had noticed strange people entering the club and sometimes zeroing in on Nick. Sometimes they'd just talk and that would be that... sometimes Nick would leave with them. Sometimes there were near arguments even here in this nightclub converted from an old church. Most of all... Nick was far more secretive than he had been... and he had been plenty secretive before Amanda had left.

Burt glanced up as the door opened again and he inwardly groaned. _The infernal child was here once again!_ She'd shown up a few days ago and Nick had mumbled something about being her bodyguard. But Burt didn't think that one really needed a bodyguard so much as an escort. Although she appeared to be about eight years old... she carried herself and spoke with a wealth of knowledge belying her tender years. And then... within those blue eyes of hers seemed to be a world-weariness and wisdom that spoke of things no child should know about.

Nick had stiffened a bit just before the door had opened... but seemed to relax once he saw it was her, "Val... what are you doing here..."

"I needed to get out of the rain." She tossed her blonde braids and closed the small umbrella, placing it daintily beside the closed door. With a laugh she walked toward the bar. "And I thought since I was in the neighborhood that I'd spend some time with my good friend Nick!"

Nick smirked and shook his head. "Oh... when did we become friends?"

Val smiled almost maternally and climbed up on a barstool.

"No!" Burt said, his voice raised in exasperation. ""I've told you... you can't sit at the bar! Do you want me to lose my license? You shouldn't even be in here!"

"But Burt..." Val grinned, "that only applies if you are open for business... and you're not are you?"

"Maybe I should be..." Burt grumbled. 

"I don't suppose you'd let me have a little wine?" the girl teased.

"No... and I wish you'd stop asking me that." Burt turned to Nick. "Read that file and get back to me... and get this _child_ out of here." He stalked off, up the stairs to the office. "And keep an eye on things for a while!"

"He's right you know... you really shouldn't be here."

"But it's still holy ground. It's safer than ducking into some cafe while the storm passes. You know that."

"I do... but he doesn't and I'd prefer he not learn about us... about immortals."

"Well... all right... now pour me a little wine while I wait for the storm to pass."

"I can't do that!"

"What about coffee?" Val nodded toward the coffee machine.

"What about milk?"

"Ouch! That's what I hate about being out in the world like this... no one ever wants to take me seriously."

"Then go home!" Nick insisted.

"I can't... I have to find Rosalie first." Val wanted Nick to help her locate the young mortal woman who had accompanied her to Paris. Val had originally come to the French capital searching for an immortal friend of Liam Riley's... to give her a message. When her "guardian" had vanished, Nick had taken the not so young immortal to Liam. Now, Val needed to find her friend, and Nick had been trying to help her. So far he'd had no luck. Val's mention of the young woman brought to Nick's mind the immortal child Kenny, who may well have been the one who had abducted the missing Rosalie. 

As for young Kenny... Nick had found him... tried to save him from another immortal... only to almost become the boy's victim himself. The other immortal, who Liam had later explained was several thousand years old and a true master of the blade... had saved Nick from Kenny... but had not taken the boy's head... leaving that for Nick to do. A task Nick had declined. So Kenny was still prowling Paris... and likely seeking another opportunity at any of them.

"Go home to that convent you told me about... I told you I'd find her... if she's still alive."

"But I need an adult to travel with." She teased. "Now you could come with me..."

Nick laughed nervously. "No I don't think so."

"Pity... now about that coffee?"

Nick slipped behind the bar to pour the eight hundred year old little girl a cup of coffee. He handed her the cup and then winked, "Milk with that?"

Outside... in the Paris afternoon... rain poured in sheets.


	7. Chapter 6

****

Chapter 6

Duncan reluctantly showed the girl into the barge as the storm broke over them. As he entered the living quarters, he turned on lights to offset the darkness of the storm that had overtaken the day. Methos gave the girl an odd questioning glance, then sat back... one of those amused expressions on his face. He ran one hand through his short dark hair content to just watch and let this scene play out.

Outside lightning flashed and the thunder roared almost immediately!

The girl flinched momentarily and then rubbed the rain from her face and held out a book... shaking it slightly and then flipping through it to see if it were all right. Methos saw the cover and his grin was even bigger, "**_Blade of the MacLeods_**." he said. "I hear that one's a real page turner."

MacLeod gave him a pained expression. "This is my friend..."

"Adam... Adam Pierson," Methos said before MacLeod could get anything else out. He rose slightly from the chair and then sat back down.

"Hello..." the girl nodded, "Are you in a book, too."

"Not lately," Methos said charmingly with a wry wink of an eye.

Once more MacLeod gave him a warning look and then said brightly to the girl, "Now... I ask again... just what can I do for you."

"Oh..." the girl returned her rapt attention to Duncan and eyed him up and down with an appreciative look. "Could you sign my book." She held out the paperback to MacLeod.

Duncan took it and shrugged, perhaps this would not be as unpleasant an encounter, as some he'd had with other readers of the book a few years ago. He pulled a pen from a drawer. "And... just who should I make this to."

"Alisaunne." She grinned and made a small sound of delight, quickly clasping and unclasping her hands.

Duncan wrote with a flourish and read aloud, "_To Alisaunne... the prettiest young lady who ever handed me this book. ~ Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod._" He closed it and returned it to her. Above his head, thunder crashed once more.

The girl flinched again at the sound of the thunder. "Oooh!" she then exclaimed, as she read Duncan's message for herself. She sighed and held the book to her chest. Reluctantly she closed it and placed it within her backpack. Then she brought out a small throwaway camera. "And a picture? With me? For proof? So the others will know I'm not making this up?"

"Let me do the honors." Methos rose bowing slightly as he took the camera from her. "Smile MacLeod!" the five thousand-year-old immortal quipped as he took several shots of MacLeod and then MacLeod with Alisaunne. All the while... MacLeod glared at him... except, of course when Methos was snapping the photos.

Finally, after about six shots, MacLeod reached out for the camera, "That ought to do it... I think!" He pulled the camera from Methos' hands and then turned and bowed gallantly, returning the camera to Alisaunne. "For m'lady."

She grinned and giggled once more. Then flinched at the thunder once more and glanced at the porthole. The view was completely obscured by the rain. "Uh... Can I stay until it stops?"

"Don't you have a ride?" asked Duncan, suddenly concerned.

"I came by taxi... I heard your address mentioned at the Museum and pooled my mad money with that of my friends and followed you." She shrugged. "The money wasn't quite enough so I walked the last few blocks."

"Well... I can take you back to the Museum... if you like... or call you a taxi." Duncan continued. From the corner of his eye he saw Methos retake his seat. The old immortal was grinning from ear to ear.

"Alas... I fear they have already returned to our school."

"Without you?" Duncan looked quizzically at her. "Just what kind of school leaves a child behind?"

"Well, I'm hardly a child... I _am _eighteen... Anyway, my friends were going to cover for me so I would not be missed until dinner tonight." Alisaunne looked sheepish. "I've done this before."

"Follow strange men you don't know into their homes?"

"Oh no... Duncan... er... _Monsieur _MacLeod... This is the first time I've ever done this. But sometimes I leave the group and go exploring or shopping. It's how I found your book."

Duncan angrily reached for the phone and punched in the number of a taxi service he'd used on occasion and called for a cab. "The name of your school!" he said to Alisaunne pointedly.

She hesitated and then sighed. "_ Academie de Sacre Coeur_." She seemed to realize... the game was over.

Dejectedly she wandered around the barge looking at things as they waited for the taxi to arrive. She paused by the table on which the runestones were still scattered. She gazed at them a long moment and then began to shift some of them around and smiled. "Runestones... my uncle had some like this... These are very old."

"Your uncle?" asked Methos suddenly curious.

"I think he was an archeologist or historian or something when he was young man. He's dead now." Alisaunne held one up. "This is the one for crossroads I think." Then she placed it on the table, shrugging as she turned around... still looking at things in the barge.

"Your uncle... was he Jacques de Pres by any chance?" the dark-haired immortal asked thoughtfully.

"Mmmm... yes he was..." she glanced at him... a question in her eyes. "Did you know my uncle?"

"By reputation only," Methos said evenly.

"Taxi's here." said Duncan and shot Methos a piercing glance. The elder immortal just shrugged. Duncan grabbed an umbrella to escort Alisaunne out to the taxi. He paid the driver and indicated the address to him. "And don't take her anywhere else. Also... make certain she goes into that school! That an adult receives her!" The driver smiled at the generous tip and enthusiastically agreed. Duncan watched the taxi drive off... then he turned back to the barge. Methos had some questions to answer.

The immortal was once more working on his computer program and even whistling a bit under his breath. A wry look of amusement teased about his face.

Duncan closed and shook the rain from the umbrella. "All right Methos! Give... who was Jacques de Pres?"

Methos looked at him innocently, "How should I know?"

"Methos!"

"All right, MacLeod... you are entirely too sensitive about this... but then having to deal with a schoolgirl's crush could conceivably put you in a foul mood."

"Don't change the subject!"

Methos leaned back in his chair as he eyed MacLeod evenly. "Jacques de Pres was an alias Darius first used many centuries ago... a cover when he was out and about and in case he was stopped and needed to show papers to authorities, when he wasn't being Darius, the priest who never left Holy Ground. I did not know he might still have used it. It was just a guess."

"The girl was speaking of an uncle!" MacLeod sputtered as he pointed off in the general direction the taxi had likely driven.

"Let me fill in some blanks for you. The girl is an orphan. Darius finds her... sets her up somewhere in a school. Visits occasionally... as her uncle." Methos folded his arms across his chest. "Have I left anything out!"

"No... it makes sense..." Duncan slowly shook his head. "After all... she _is_ one of us... or will be one day."

"Precisely... Darius' _student_. I'll bet she has some runestones or some papers left to her by her uncle that she knows nothing about." Methos sat forward and was working once more on the computer. "And I have a feeling... MacLeod... you'll need to visit _Academie de Sacre Coeur _and talk to the headmistress. Perhaps you can get a new lead on things."

Me?"

"Well... you _are_ the one the girl has a crush on." Methos grinned as he kept working intently at the keyboard shifting pages... although in truth... he was currently getting nowhere.


	8. Chapter 7

****

Chapter 7

Toronto

"Now... remove your foot from the brake and gently... I said gently... push on the gas to accelerate," said Phillip patiently. However, even this simple move seemed beyond Eleanor. She floored the gas and then slammed on the brake... killing the ignition once again.

From the back seat... Derrick laughed. "Aw gee... Ellie... I think even I could drive a car!"

Gears groaned as Eleanor attempted to shift back into park and try it again.

Phillip covered his ears and grimaced. "How is it you never learned to drive a car?"

"I never needed to... besides... a driver's license is just one more way someone could trace me... I don't like leaving anything more than bread crumbs behind."

"But you learned trauma surgery a few... years..." Phillip had almost slipped and said decades but caught himself and glanced at Derrick who was concentrating once again on his Game Boy. "... ago. And you _can_ drive even without a license!"

"Says the man who lives on an island where there are no cars!" Eleanor turned on the ignition once more and shifted slowly into drive. She lifted off the brake and hit the gas... once more the engine revved and the car leapt forward. Once more she slammed on the brake and the engine died. She put the car in park once more. "Are you certain I need to know this?"

"What if we become... separated?" Phillip replied. "I'll feel better knowing you can handle the car."

Eleanor shrugged and mumbled, "Seems to me it might be better if we just caught a bus somewhere." But she tried again.

Phillip had decided that a few days in Toronto... might help. Derrick needed some levity and some fun in his life. Their mad dash across North America had likely added to the stress the boy was under. Phillip hoped... by slowing down and turning this more into a "vacation" that the boy's nightmares might ease up. Already today... he seemed more at ease and laughing and joking with the two immortals. Phillip winked at Eleanor who nodded... she had noticed Derrick's laughter as well and obviously agreed... even if she had no real interest in learning to drive.

"I fear driving is like cooking... something I will never master."

"Master? Ha! You mean even do passably!" Phillip smirked recalling Eleanor's many failures at cooking over the centuries.

She stared at him and crossed her eyes... sticking her tongue out at him briefly and then wrinkling her nose.

Phillip laughed. "Ahh... Little Sister... you are a treasure! Now let's try this again... slowly this time.

A few hours later... Eleanor had finally gotten the gist of it and was driving erratically through the empty parking lot at an amazing fifteen miles per hour! Phillip chuckled, "Perhaps you are right... this is one skill you may never master. Pull over up here and I'll drive us back to the motel."

But it was all for naught.

That night... Derrick's nightmares returned. He thrashed and screamed so loudly that whoever was in the next room beat on the wall and yelled about the noise. Something more had to be done. A trans-Atlantic flight would almost certainly involve an overnight... they could not risk it with Derrick while he still had them.

Phillip leaned back in the chair and stared at Eleanor's laptop. On the floor behind him, she was holding and murmuring to the boy... trying to ease him back into a sleep that would not be filled with visions of blood and death. Phillip had pulled up his email... and after seeing it was considering a course of action that was fraught with danger. Still... it might be the only way to get to the heart of the boy's fears and end the nightmares once and for all.

He glanced at Eleanor. Even she was showing signs of weariness and stress. He nodded to himself and typed in a message and hit send. Slowly he closed the laptop and crossed to his bed. It was done... now they had to wait for an answer. "_Gods..._" he thought, "_I hope I've done the right thing._"

***

****

New York

Cassandra ducked into the mausoleum to avoid the first sprinkling of the raindrops. She pulled up the collar of her raincoat and then stuffed her hands into the pockets as she awaited the arrival of the Greek swordsman she had once known as Captain Nicholas. Centuries ago she had been once been among a group of women captured by an invading Greek army. While she could have fought the victors off and escaped, or perhaps died and been left behind... the other women would have been helpless. So she had remained with them and tried to protect them.

Cassandra had been attempting to negotiate a release for the women by her use of the voice, when a brown-bearded, barrel-chested soldier had approached the group. She had glanced up in the realization that _he _was an immortal. As she no longer had even a knife to protect herself, she had made a leap at one of the other men and tried to wrest his sword from him.

Strong arms had pulled her back. She had been swiftly held and then roughly thrown over a shoulder and carried off by the immortal she had felt. He tossed her onto the ground some distance away and had stood looking at her with a sense of amusement.

Cassandra had shifted on the ground almost seductively and pitched her voice in the way Lilith had once taught her. "You are getting sleepy..."

He had laughed... "Oh bother girl... I'm not interested in you... I just wanted to get you out of that group to talk to you."

Cassandra had halted in her use of the voice. Perhaps she would save it for another time... "Who are you?"

"Call me Captain Nicholas for the present. And you?"

"Xandra."

The man had sat on a nearby rock and regarded her with interest. "I've heard legends of one of us named Xandra... one who has visions and can see the future."

Cassandra had returned to her feet and shifted her weight slightly... attempting a minor seduction by appearing alluring and available. "I am that Xandra."

The Greek Captain had smirked genially and shaken his head. "How do you see the future?"

Cassandra had sighed then, figuring that he truly was not interested in her at all. "Sometimes in the palm of a subject's hand... sometimes in the pattern of the bones cast before the fire."

"Ever see the future in the spray of the ocean?"

Cassandra had stopped and stared at him. "I once met another who could do that," she had said finally.

The brown-bearded immortal had straightened. "Where?"

"Long ago... and far away. Why?"

His shoulders had sagged at that point. "My teacher could do that... I have always wondered what happened to her."

It was at that point that they had struck up a minor friendship based on nothing more than that they had both apparently been students of the same immortal. The Captain had called his teacher Danae. Cassandra had known her as Lilith. It was Lilith who had finally saved Cassandra when she had fled from the horsemen's camp so long ago. It was Lilith who had taken her in and taught her... It was Lilith, the Ancient, who had once handed her a great crystal and whispered that with it... she could see her heart's desire. And it was Lilith, who had taught Cassandra the nature of turning men's minds by the use of her voice and Lilith who had reluctantly instructed her in her gift of prophecy.

"Prophecy is a dangerous gift Xandra. The more you dare to use it... the more caught in the various pathways of the visions you may become. Prophecy can drive you mad! Use it sparingly child... use it with care." Soon after, Lilith had gathered up her belongings and walked away into the fog of early morning. Cassandra had never seen nor heard of her since that long ago day.

It had been similar for Nicholas. As a boy, he had learned to fight under the tutelage of the oracle he knew as Danae. Once he had gone to war and died... and been reborn... he had returned to find the oracle long gone. The Greek had at that point pulled out a cameo of Danae to show Cassandra, who had nodded when she saw it. Lilith and Danae were one and the same. She did not bother to let the Captain know that Lilith had taught Cassandra almost five hundred years before the Greek had been born. That was a secret she thought she had best keep... at least for the time being.

Now, Cassandra felt the approach of an immortal and turned at the sound of the mausoleum door opening. She smiled at the sight of the Swordmaster she had so longed to see once more... the Greek swordsman who might just know where the great crystal of the ancient one was now hidden. 


	9. Chapter 8

****

Chapter 8

Paris

Nick signed the roster at the morgue and, taking Val by the hand as if he were her guardian and protector, led the child into the cold room. The attendant nodded at the name Nick gave him and expertly opened one of the units to pull a shelf out. He glanced down at the child.

"Are you certain, _monsieur_, that the petite one need be here?"

Nick nodded, "I'm afraid so... she's the only one who can identify the body."

The attendant gestured his compliance and unzipped the body bag slightly, exposing only the face and head.

Nick stood behind Val, who rose up on tiptoe to gaze sadly into the partially decomposed face of a young woman. She reached out and gently straightened strands of brown hair so that they did not cover the young woman's face. Val sighed deeply and nodded. "That's Rosalie Binot. She was my... governess." Val stood flatfoot once more and turned to Nick. "We need to make burial arrangements, Nick." Then she walked slowly out of the cold room.

Nick finished up the paperwork with the attendant and reclaimed Val, who was sitting in a chair, looking for all the world like a little, lost child. He no longer saw about her that air of maternal wisdom she so often exuded. Once they were out into the early evening air once more, Val shrugged off his hand and let out a determined hiss. "If Kenny did this... he will pay! I for one do not see him as some child... even if all of you do so!" She stalked off a distance and then turned. "Are you coming? I have an immortal to hunt!" Nick nodded slowly... already regretting that he had not killed the boy when he'd had the chance... but it had just not seemed sporting to kill a child... even if he wasn't truly a child.

"I need to swing by my place and get my sword."

"You really need to carry it on you, Nick... Many of us are not so honorable as to give you the chance to get it." Val tossed her pale blonde braids and looked down at her schoolgirl's outfit. "I may need to get some other clothes, too. Perhaps it is time I stopped looking so small and helpless. Are there any thrift stores still open?"

Val climbed into Nick's SUV and pulled the door shut behind her with a forceful slam. But Nick saw a haunted expression in her blue eyes. She hadn't said much about her mortal companion... but Nick thought she might later... she just might...

A few hours later, Val had purchased some clothes to change into. She'd undone her braids, swept her long blonde hair into a ponytail and secured it. Her stretch jeans and V-neck long sleeve navy blue top fitted her tiny child's body snugly. As she stared into the full-length mirror at Nick's apartment... her expression was set into one of determination. Between the set of her jaw and the change of clothes... she had lost the innocent waif-like air and seemed merely a small immortal set on vengeance.

Nick secured his own sword into the long black leather coat he'd bought last year for just this purpose and waited. When Val was ready... she picked up her small sword that hardly seemed like it could do the job and placed it within her own dark coat. She pulled a dark knit cap over her blonde hair and turned to face him. "You don't have to go with me, Nick... I can handle Kenny... if and when I find him."

"Indulge me..."

"You must not interfere... no matter what!"

Nick nodded. "I already interfered once on his behalf... I'll not make that mistake again."

Val smiled, once more she seemed maternal. "Well... at least he didn't get you... too." She headed to the door. "Let's hunt!"

"What if he isn't the one who killed her." Nick observed as they headed down the stairs.

Val paused at a landing and looked at him evenly and then shrugged. "Doesn't matter... Kenny has been preying on the unsuspecting long enough. I know that it is said that _'in the end there can be only one_' and that he is playing the game the only way he knows how... but that doesn't mean killing our mortal companions. Even if he didn't kill Rosalie... he has killed others. It's payback time!"

"Paris is a big city... this could take a while... and we don't even know if he is still around."

Val smiled as she once more climbed in to the SUV. "Oh... he's still here... he tends to hunt out a place before he moves on. He'll be looking for someone new and un-experienced. Someone he can fool into taking him in."

Nick slid behind the driver's seat and started the ignition, "And you have someone in mind?"

"Mmm... hmmm." Val nodded. "Do you know the _Rue St. Dominique_"

Nick nodded.

"Well... there once was someone over there who knew almost everything about the immortals who came to Paris. I suggest we check with him. He might know the whereabouts of any young ones."

An hour later Nick parked the SUV outside a small _maison_ that was surrounded by an ornamental walled garden and secured by an ironwork gate. He could sense nothing here.

Val smiled and climbed out. "Coming?" Nick nodded as he followed her over the wall and through the garden. By the time they reached the house... he could feel the immortal who apparently lived there. Val came to a halt just outside the glassed doors that led to the garden. She folded her arms one across the other and waited. Nick stood at her side... filled with curiosity.

From within the darkened room he heard an oddly accented voice call out, "It's late! I don't like visitors who come this late!"

"Cassius... it's Valeraine. I need some help."

An old man with a balding head of short white wispy hair finally opened the door and came out into the moonlight. Dressed in comfortable dress slacks and a dark turtleneck, he held in his right hand a Roman _gladius_. The old immortal glanced at the child and then at Nick. After grunting in greeting... he glanced around his garden as if he felt someone else in the darkness... Finally he shook his head and stepped aside for them to enter.

As Nick passed the old man... he kept a close eye on his host... not certain if it was at all safe to be entering this old house. Once in... Nick took quick note of the classical and very authentic furnishings in the room... obviously a study of some sort. Dust particles ladened the air and Nick could detect the odor of mold and age in all he saw and smelled. Even the man's computer was dusty. Papers were stacked about it in high piles.

Cassius closed the door drawing the heavy drapes across the glass once more.

"And what brings you to my home?" he asked Valeraine switching off the monitor as if to hide what he was working on.

"I'm hunting." Val said clearly.

"So I gather... not for me I hope." He paused and then looked at Nick. "And you are...?"

"Nick Wolfe... I'm with Val... for the moment."

Cassius nodded, "Yes... David Maillot mentioned you to me. Said you showed some promise... although you were a bit reluctant."

"You know David."

"Ahh... young one... I know almost everyone who comes to Paris. I've been studying them and watching them for generations."

"Who are you?" Nick wanted to know.

"I am Cassius Marcellus... soldier of Rome and historian." The old man bowed. "But for the kindness of a few others... I would have been dead centuries ago. Like you... I am not eager for the fighting. I keep the histories of our kind. I collect information on us all so that once we are gone... something will remain." The old man placed his _gladius_ on his desk as he sat in his chair... motioning for his guests to do likewise.

"You work with the Watchers?" Nick asked.

Val looked at him sharply and drew in a breath. "How is it you who are so young know of them?"

Nick shrugged, "Amanda knew them... I crossed paths with a few."

Cassius nodded. "I don't work _with_ them... but I have kept their secret for centuries as they have kept ours. I seldom go out so if any of them are on me... they do not come so close, nor watch so closely. Besides... they serve a purpose." He smiled as he poured wine from a crystal decanter into three small wineglasses. "Now then... Valeraine... child of the Crusade... tell me for whom you search."

Nick glanced at the girl, "Crusade?"

Val smiled as she reached for one glass of the wine, "Later Nick... another time." She focused on Cassius as she explained the death of Rosalie and her desire to locate Kenny.

Cassius nodded as he sipped his wine. Finally he spoke up as Val finished. "A new one... besides your young friend here..." He winked at Nick. He wrote something on a slip of paper and handed it to Val. "You might try here... I began hearing of this one a few years ago. He's said to be very inexperienced and I have yet to hear of any teacher who has worked with him."

"Thank you Cassius." Val took the slip of paper, and glanced at it as she placed it within her pocket. She stood to leave.

"I grieve with you for the loss of Rosalie." Cassius offered.

Val nodded. "I always knew she would die one day and leave me... I just never thought it would be so soon. When I first found her... she was smaller than I was... just a wee slip of a thing tossed aside like so much garbage in an uncaring world." Tears brimmed in her blue eyes. "I had hoped to see her marry and have children some day... she was still so very young." Val bit her lips and then shook her head. "Thank you again Cassius. Stay safe... " Her voice trailed off and she headed out the door.

"Come back to see me sometime young Nick... perhaps I can fill in some blanks for you," Cassius said to Nick as he followed Val out the door.

Once Nick had exited the house... he heard the door close solidly behind him... and the sound of a lock and bolt. Thoughtfully the young immortal followed Val out into the garden and back to his vehicle. Climbing in, once more he started the ignition. "Where to next?"


	10. Chapter 9

****

Chapter 9

New York

Cassandra's eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light of the hotel room. The drapes were drawn against the late afternoon sun... She saw Phillip's student sitting on the floor... clasping the drowsy boy the Swordmaster had begged the psychic to help.

Cassandra had considered just using the voice on Phillip and getting what she needed... but she had always had a soft spot for children.

"Take him to a professional!" she had tried to tell the Greek.

"I can't... he'll be one of us someday. It's complicated Cassandra. Little Sister and I both feel that if we can access those memories he can't quite recall... we might be able to help him."

So... here she was. Across the room... Phillip's small student eyed her evenly... her head tilted to one side as though she were listening to someone none of the rest of them could hear. In her arms... the boy lay pale and drawn... whimpering slightly. His forehead was wet with sweat and his breath came in small gasps... his hands clutched at the air spasmodically.

Cassandra knelt by the pair and ran one hand over the boy's brow. It was cold and clammy. She sat back on her heels... uncertain as to what she should do next. She looked at length deeply into the girl's green eyes and saw curiosity and apprehension.

"I'm only here to help the boy."

The girl nodded and rocked him again. The boy struggled in her arms letting out a ragged breath. When he opened his eyes... Cassandra saw they were blue. He raised one hand into a fist and rubbed his eyes. "Gee... did I nod off again?" He smiled weakly at the girl. "Ellie?" He reached for her and held her tightly. The girl smiled and held him back but she stared at Cassandra.

Cassandra stood and turned to the Greek. "You and your student will need to leave me alone with the boy. It's the only way I might be able to help."

"No... I stay, " the girl said.

The Greek shook his head, "As I tried to explain... we will not leave him."

"Then I cannot help." Cassandra made to leave.

"Help how?" The boy's sudden question made her pause. 

Cassandra turned and stared down at him. "Help you to remember that which you fear to."

The boy nodded. "Then that's what we need to do." He broke free of the girl's embrace and stood facing the wild-haired immortal. "Ready when you are."

"No..." the girl began.

"Ellie... we both know this has to end. If she can end it... we need to take the chance. _Trust me. Trust my judgment this time._" Cassandra noticed the change in inflection as the boy spoke the final words... as if there was another voice guiding what he said. The girl... Ellie... must have noticed it too. Her breath caught in her throat and then she nodded. Nodding, she stood and walked slowly toward the door.

The Greek picked up a long sword case, as if reluctant to leave it behind pausing a moment before he joined the girl. "We'll be right outside... don't try anything Cassandra... you'll be sorry if you do."

Cassandra watched the door close behind them. Then she turned to the boy who had taken a seat in one of the two chairs near the window. He regarded her solemnly and with an air of maturity belying his tender years. "Shall we get started?"

***

It was dark by the time Phillip and Eleanor re-entered the hotel room. Cassandra was standing at the window... gazing down thoughtfully on the lights of the city. Derrick was curled into a ball and sleeping soundly on Eleanor's bed.

Immediately, Eleanor crossed to the boy to check on him while Phillip, after replacing the sword case where it had been, crossed over to Cassandra.

"He should sleep through the night without interruption. Tomorrow... he may have many things to talk to you about."

"What did you learn?" asked Phillip.

Cassandra shook her head. "He's evidently seen a great deal of violence in his young life. He must have seen his family murdered... his earliest thoughts seem to be of his older sister lying dead and bloody just beyond his reach. He carries a great sense of guilt that he could not save her. Then the woman who raised him next apparently was also killed. After that your student found him. He seemed to think she was his sister come back for him. But apparently whatever you two have been involved in lately has stirred up these early half-forgotten memories of blood and guns again."

Phillip nodded sadly. "Yes... it's not been pleasant."

"Even if he is one of us," Cassandra whispered, " you should turn him over to authorities and let them deal with him. _We_... should never raise children!"

"He's attached to her. He won't leave her. What can we do?"

"Well... he'll likely need real therapy... much more than I can do... but I've put a suggestion in his mind so that when the memories come... he will realize that they are just that... memories... They cannot hurt him... He is safe and warm and happy. He may well feel the need to talk about whatever it is that he clearly remembers." Cassandra shrugged. "It is all I can do."

"May it be enough." Phillip murmured. "You didn't mention..."

"Of course not. But I gather he is suspicious... Something about bullets bouncing off some friend of yours."

Phillip smiled as he scratched at his beard, "Yeah... well... we sorta figured we might have to explain a few things to him... but settling his mind about these memories and... what recently happened... seemed the top priority."

"Yes... well... if we are finished... can you take me back to the cemetery?"

Phillip nodded, "I can or... if you'd like a taxi..."

"No... I think I'd like for you to drive me." Cassandra pulled on her long coat as she nodded farewell to the girl. The psychic watched as the girl brushed the boy's hair out of his eyes and leaned down to kiss his forehead. Ellie was totally focused on the boy, seemingly unaware of the other immortals. Then Cassandra opened the door and swiftly exited into the hallway.

"I'll be back shortly," she heard the Greek say as he closed the door and took her arm to escort her to the elevator. Once in his car... Cassandra smiled... it was safe now for her to use the voice... there was still payment for the afternoon to be considered... and she knew what payment she now wanted.

***

Eleanor glanced up as Phillip re-entered the room. He threw the bolts on the door and removed his coat, flinging it onto the desk chair. With his hands on his hips, he stood looking out the window for a time and then turned to her with a wan smile. "Well... that didn't go too badly... did it?"

"I'm still worried about her."

"Well the boy didn't know _Adam's_ other name... and neither one of us would mention it... I know better... always have... and you barely said a dozen words."

"Still... she makes me nervous."

"How's Derrick." Phillip finally asked.

"Sleeping... He's just sleeping. I guess we'll see tomorrow if it lasts."

"Tomorrow... " Phillip's voice trailed off and he stared once more out of the window. "Maybe we'll hang around here another day or so before I try to make plane reservations. Just to be on the safe side." He pulled out a chair and sat down at Eleanor's laptop. "I think I'll check messages in case '_Adam'_ has been in touch."

"He hasn't... at least not since this morning. I still think we should have told him what we were going to do."

"It would just worry him... might distract him... He has other things to think about right now." Phillip murmured as he pulled up email accounts and did some checking. Finally he closed the laptop and rubbed his head. "Think the TV will bother him? That damned sword is playing with my mind again."

"No... go ahead. It doesn't like not being claimed. I wish... _Adam_... had held onto it." Adam was what Derrick knew Methos as, so the duo had been attempting to use only that name for their ancient friend for the time being... Still... sometimes it was hard. Eleanor lay down on the bed again and tried to get some sleep. Surprisingly, she dropped off fairly quickly... the past few days had been more of a strain on her than she had realized. In dreams though... strong arms were once more about her... and a cherished voice whispered ancient words of love...

Phillip scanned quickly through the channels until he found an infomercial... on knives. He chuckled and settled down to watch a simple knife cut through steel. "Right," he thought. "Are people really that gullible?" Gradually his eyes closed... and a voice whispered in his mind... _Bring it to me... find it and bring it to me._

When morning came... Eleanor opened her eyes and saw Derrick sitting in the bed beside her... his head against the wall regarding her with great interest. On the other side of the room, she could hear Phillip's snore and the low murmur of the TV. She smiled at Derrick.

"You're not really my sister are you?" the boy asked.

Eleanor shifted slightly and then sighed. "No... I'm not."

"But I did know you from before... didn't I." Derrick's voice was calm.

Eleanor creased her brows and considered her next words carefully. Finally she looked deeply into his blue eyes and said simply, "I don't know... sometimes you remind me of someone I once knew... someone who died many years ago."

"You're not Ellie... she's dead... but..." Derrick shook his head. "you _are_ Ellie... somehow."

Eleanor reached out to the boy, "I'm whoever you want me to be... if you need to call me Ellie... that's fine. If you need to know what my name is... I'll tell you."

Derrick looked at her hand on his arm and then clasped one hand about hers. "My name's not even Derrick... is it."

"Now that..."Eleanor said brightly, "is something only you can answer."

"My sister Ellie... she used to call me Rick..." the boy looked thoughtful. "Where did Derrick come from?"

"I don't know," said Eleanor truthfully. "Perhaps some other memory was trying to come through and got confused with who you were."

The boy shook his head. "Cassandra told me to talk to you about whatever I remembered. Trouble is... it's all kinda jumbled together."

"Well," said Eleanor sitting up beside him with a patient grin. "I'm all ears... as it were. Take your time and tell me what you can... even if it doesn't make sense. We'll sort it out later."

Derrick nodded and leaned into her embrace as Eleanor put one arm around him and hugged him tightly. He took a deep breath, and began to speak.


	11. Chapter 10

****

Chapter 10

Paris

Duncan stood in the office of the headmistress of _Academie de Sacre Coeur_ examining the artwork as he waited. Finally an elderly nun entered and smiled at him pleasantly.

"I am so sorry to have kept you waiting _monsieur_. Now you are... please remind me... "

"MacLeod... Duncan MacLeod." Duncan offered his hand. After shaking it, the nun motioned him to take a seat while she thoughtfully moved behind the desk.

"MacLeod? Now why does that name seem so familiar?"

"One of your students came to see me the other day... I decided to stop by and make certain she was all right."

"Ahh... MacLeod of the book. Yes... of course." Mother Magdelena smiled and pulled **_Blade of the MacLeods_ **out of her desk drawer. She flipped through it and smiled at him. "Thank you for being a decent man and sending Alisaunne back to us. She is often a trial. But God gives us trials to keep us humble." Mother Magdelena's eye seemed to be caught by something she saw in the book and her flipping of pages stopped. She did a double take at whatever she was seeing and then closed the book and replaced it in the drawer. Her red face betrayed embarrassment. "Alisaunne is currently on kitchen duty for her little escapade... and I have obviously confiscated the novel."

"I wasn't put out by her... I was just concerned..." MacLeod began.

"As well you should be. We do not approve of our young ladies traipsing all over Paris. We are an old and well-regarded school. Such behavior is not approved. If Alisaunne were not a month from graduation and a month from leaving us... she would be more severely chastised."

"She mentioned an uncle..." MacLeod waved one hand at his words.

"Yes... he used to visit occasionally before his death."

"Who is her guardian now?"

Mother Magdelena looked at him narrowly. "Why do you ask that, _monsieur_?"

"I was curious how her guardian feels about her activities."

Mother Magdelena leaned back in her chair and regarded the handsome Scotsman evenly. Finally she shrugged, "Truthfully... she has no family left. There is an _avocat_ who manages her inheritance and pays the bills. I believe I have his name. As for Alisaunne herself... I suppose the other sisters and I are her only real family now. She has been with us since her days in the lower school. There was a time we had hoped she would remain with us... as one of us."

"What happened to her uncle exactly?" Duncan asked.

"Ahh... I am not certain. We received word he had died but wished the girl to remain here in school. He even left us a sizable donation from his estate for our help in raising her. Payment dependent upon her eventual graduation."

Duncan chuckled. "In other words... she has to graduate for you to get your money!"

Mother Magdelena shot him a look and then smiled. "Yes... so we put up with her escapades. But she will graduate next month and then go to _univesite' _and be someone else's little problem. I am sorry if I do not sound as I should regarding the girl... but sometimes she has been a handful. Now... is there anything else?"

"Would it be possible to see her?"

The nun smiled and nodded, "I thought as much. She should arrive shortly." She looked up at the timid knock on the door, "That is likely Alisaunne now... _Entree'_."

The door slowly entered and an apparently chastised Alisaunne entered the office... Duncan almost grinned at the girl's downcast eyes and solemn expression. He had a feeling it was all for show.

"Alisaunne... _Monsieur_ MacLeod has come to see if you arrived home safely."

The girl glanced over at Duncan and gripped her hands together tightly. "My thanks _monsieur_ for your kindness." Her voice was low and contrite... barely a whisper.

"Quite all right. I just wanted to check on you." Duncan tried to keep his voice even and pleasant... betraying nothing.

"I apologize for putting you to any inconvenience."

"It was not an inconvenience but I was concerned about you."

"Yes, _monsieur_, but it will not happen again." Tears were brimming in the girl's eyes.

"_God, she's good_," Duncan thought. As Mother Magdelena placed her hands within her habit and turned to look out the window at a passing group of girls... Alisaunne quickly gave him a wink and a smile before she was all contrition once more as the nun turned back.

"Well..." Duncan finally said with a paternal air that hid his amusement, "I hope you will be more careful in the future. And I trust your graduation will be a day to remember."

"Could you come?" The girl looked at him almost pleadingly. "I have no family to come... I would be honored."

"Send me an invitation." Duncan said with a reluctant smile. "You do have my address."

"Oh yes... _monsieur_... and your friend as well... the one who knew of my uncle."

Duncan grinned broadly, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement, "Of course... _Monsieur_ Pierson will be glad to attend. I'll see to it personally."

Mother Magdelena cleared her throat and the girl bowed her head and curtsied. "My thanks _monsieur_," she mumbled and then quietly exited the room.

Duncan bowed slightly to the headmistress, "You will be certain I get an invitation?"

Mother Magdelena nodded. "I suppose if I refuse... you and possibly this friend of yours will show up anyway?"

Duncan smiled and made a small shrugging gesture. "If it makes the child happy... what's the harm?"

The nun nodded and crossed herself, "I pray I am not setting a bad precedent with this decision. And it is only because the child has no one else to come. Despite everything _monsieur_, I am fond of her. And... once she has left... I will miss her."

Duncan glanced at the now closed door. "Yes Sister... I think you will... she is a most intriguing young lady."

Alisaunne almost skipped on her way back to the kitchen. She quietly signaled Marisol who was also doing kitchen duty for her part in the deception. "The MacLeod is here! He's coming to our graduation... everyone will get to meet him."

Marisol's eyes widened in anticipation, then looking around she returned to her duties with a broad smile. She would miss Alisaunne once graduation happened... life was always more exciting with her friend around... yes... exciting and unexpected.


	12. Chapter 11

****

Chapter 11

Seacouver

Joe opened his eyes and smiled at Dr. Anne Lindsey, "Good mornin' beautiful!"

Anne smiled back and shook her head, letting her shoulder-length dark hair swirl about her shoulders. "It's not morning and after an all-night shift... I'm not too certain about that other part... either."

"I am." Joe answered, surprised he felt well enough to flirt a bit. His eyes glanced over at his prostheses standing near the closet. He wondered when or even if he'd be able to use them again... or if this time... his injuries would confine him to the damned wheelchair! Still... the alternative... being dead... was even worse.

"Well... for someone who nearly died a few days ago... you are certainly chipper today."

"Yeah," Joe grinned, flashing his best smile, determined not to let his fears overwhelm him. "Coming out alive one more time can sure make a guy appreciate what he's got." Joe shifted slightly and gasped at the pain. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Heard from Mac today?" he finally managed.

"I think he called to see how you were. You were asleep." Anne closed his chart and held it close to her. Since Mary's birth, she had moved on with her life... a life that did not include immortal beings and a strange game that meant death to all but one. She had concentrated on her daughter... her position at the hospital... and the day to day business of normalcy. Anne was not certain she even wanted to be pulled back into Duncan's world... but she had loved seeing her former lover once again. She smiled.

Joe nodded, "Anybody else call?"

"Some of your Watcher friends... and I think your daughter finally got through to us. I can pick the messages up for you if you are interested."

"Amy's message... I'd like to see that one. The others can wait."

Anne nodded and turned to go. Suddenly she stopped and turned back to Joe. "Just what was going on? Duncan said he'd tell me but he and that friend of his apparently left town the next day and I still don't really know what happened."

Joe closed his eyes. He had once considered recruiting Anne into the Watchers... but had not out of respect for MacLeod. "Anne... you really shouldn't know too much... let's just say a couple of very sick individuals had it out for some of us... and Mac and... 'his friend'... came to the rescue."

"Well, that friend... Pierson I think he said his name was, saved your life. If not for his quick work on the scene... all our efforts would have been in vain." Anne paused and tilted her head slightly pursing her brows. "Is he like Duncan?"

Joe said nothing. If he owed Methos his life... all the more reason to keep the old man's secret. "Anne... not everyone Duncan knows is like him," he finally said truthfully. After all... MacLeod and Methos were nothing alike even if that's not quite what Anne was asking. "Mac'll tell you stuff when he can... do you know where he went?"

Anne shook her head. "No... just that something came up." She pointed toward the hall, "I'll just go get those messages for you."

Joe watched her leave. If something had come up... maybe it wasn't all over. And here he was... laid up for some time. He'd have to find out who had been placed on MacLeod and Methos... and he'd have to find out in a hurry... especially if what they were doing had anything to do with Ellie and Derrick. Ellie had said she and the boy were safe and on their way to a place where no one would find them for a while. She'd also said she'd contact him again someday. Joe had agreed to keep their existence a secret... at least until and if Derrick had to join the game... but he wished he knew where they were headed.

***

****

Paris

Nick finished off the lukewarm coffee and glanced over at Val. The little immortal had pulled her knees up onto the seat and clasped them as she stared out into the fog.

"Are you certain that address your friend Cassius gave us is a good one?"

Val laughed, "Well... I'd hardly call him a friend... but Cassius is usually pretty reliable. If he says a relatively new immortal has been seen near here... then one has. And the name he gave me is legit... the nearby shopkeepers seemed to recall the name... even if they haven't seen him in a while." Val grinned, "What's the matter Nick? I thought an old cop like you could handle a stake-out."

"I never liked stake-outs..." Nick's voice faded as he glanced up at the sudden buzz of an immortal presence.

Val looked about too. When she saw a figure making his way through the fog, she gasped and leaped out of the car... running up to him. Nick saw the man look about warily and then stare at Val. The immortal shook his head and pulled his hands out of his coat pockets to give her a small hug.

"Hmmph!" thought Nick. "For a child who says she needs a protector... Val sure gets around." Still if this guy was a friend, then Nick might be off the hook as far as keeping an eye on her. He exited the car and joined them.

"Well I wouldn't worry about Marie-Charles... she's no longer in Paris and probably won't be for some time to come." The immortal looked at Nick and smiled genially. "Hi... Adam Pierson... a friend of Valeraine's."

Nick nodded, then glanced at Val holding on to the other immortal's hand. "I thought he was a new one... you didn't know his name before?"

"Well... I didn't know _this_ name... but he's an old friend."

"Can we get out of this bloody fog?" Pierson said, withdrawing his hand from Val's and returning it to his pocket. "My place is just over there." He pointed with his chin and led the way. Val and Nick followed.

Once inside the small apartment, Pierson turned on some lights and removed his coat. Nick noticed that although the man seemed to walk and move stoop-shouldered and differential outside... once in the apartment... his movements were cat-like and graceful... as though there were far more to him than what either Nick or Valeraine could see.

"Nick Wolfe," Nick mumbled... not too certain if any of this was a good idea.

"Right... Amanda once mentioned you." Pierson scratched at his dark hair and then said, "Beer anyone?" He flung his arms out in an inviting gesture.

"Yeah..." Nick answered, "You know Amanda?"

"Friend of a friend... we've crossed swords before." Pierson opened his refrigerator and pulled out several beers.

"Why didn't you take her head?" Nick asked as he twisted off the cap of his.

"We decided it made more sense to work together at the time... the job took two of us... too bad it didn't work out." Pierson stretched out in a chair and put his feet up on the coffee table. There was an edge of sadness in his words.

Val opened her own beer, and drank deeply, "I really need to get out more. Just who is this Amanda person."

"A thief..." Nick growled,

"Not a fan of Amanda's these days are you?" Pierson's voice was laced with sarcasm.

"Nope!" Nick took another drink then sat on the sofa. Val curled up beside him. "Should you be drinking that?" he asked her.

"I am of age... despite appearances! I just have to allow for my size." But she daintily set the beer on the table and sat back on the sofa with a demure look on her face, as if what Nick said and thought was of importance to her.

"So... do you know this Kenny kid." Nick asked Pierson.

The immortal shook his head. "Never had the displeasure... but I do know of him. If I'd ever met him... he'd be dead now."

"You'd have no problem killing a kid?" Nick asked.

Pierson drank deeply at his beer. His eyes flashed darkly at Nick and he smiled a cold smile. "None whatsoever!" Then he bowed slightly to Val. "Present company excepted, of course."

Val grinned and shrugged one shoulder forward, "Of course!"

"So what now," Nick wanted to know.

Pierson stared at his beer for a moment... then polished it off. "Valeraine should return to_ Ste. Genevieve_ and you should go on with your life."

"What about you?" Nick wanted to know.

"Me...? Oh... I'll vanish back into the fog... Maybe I'll have a talk with Cassius... so he doesn't give my name out again."

"No!" said Val, sitting up straight. "Why should I go back! It's been ages since you took me hunting! I won't go back until we've had some fun!"

Nick grinned. Val once more seemed like a spoiled little girl who wanted her own way. He glanced at Pierson's suddenly sober expression.

The immortal sat up and leaned forward. "Not this time Valeraine. I'm in the middle of something and I really can't take you about these days. Besides... the world has changed and it's not so safe for that kind of activity anymore... at least not unless it's necessary."

Val crossed her arms and pouted. She looked over at Nick and smiled, "Maybe Nick could take me home..."

"Why don't I call Marie-France and have her send someone to pick you up." Pierson said. "I think that might be safer for everyone."

Val sighed. "But you have to come for a visit... I've been studying Nietzsche and Freud... and I've no one to discuss them with."

"Soon Val... but not now." There was an edge to Pierson's voice that seemed to say the matter was not open for negotiation. Val apparently accepted his words as final and slumped back into the sofa.

"What about Kenny?" Nick wanted to know.

"One of us will get him one of these days. I wouldn't worry about him." murmured Pierson. "Now... I really have some things to do... I hate to throw you two out... but... " He motioned with his hands as though it couldn't be helped.

Nick nodded, polished off his beer and stood up to leave. Val sulked for another moment, then sighed and stood to leave also. Pierson showed them to the door and promised to contact Val's friend and have her send someone to collect the girl. Nick gave him the address of _Sanctuary_ and said they could locate them there. Pierson smiled and nodded. Then he closed the door on them and they were once more in the Paris fog.

"Just who was that guy?" Nick asked as they walked back to the car.

"My teacher... he saved my life after I changed... I owe him everything." Val climbed into the car. "I first knew him as Sir Edmund of Whittenberg... although I think he has had many names and led many lives. At the school... we generally just call him 'the doctor'. I think Marie-Charles, or whatever her name truly is... is also one of his students. But he always said I was the best and most intelligent student he ever had." Val grinned and carefully adjusted her seat belt. "However... if he thinks I'm going quietly back to that convent school... he has another thing coming!"

Nick started the car and nodded. Child she may be... but Val was not a pushover. And if she had her mind set on something... he had a feeling she was going to get it. He drove slowly off into the fog. 

Through the window of his apartment, Methos soberly watched them leave. Valeraine was a complication he did not wish to deal with... and certainly not one he wanted MacLeod to discover. He knew he'd never hear the end of it if MacLeod ever met the tiny one and observed her infatuation with "her gallant knight." If Eleanor had been to _Ste. Genevieve_ recently... he wondered why she'd said nothing to him. Obviously her being there had aroused Kenny's attention and that had instigated Valeraine's little foray into the outer world.

He had enough to deal with right now... two immortal children and a green immortal with a chip on his shoulder (as Amanda had described Nick Wolfe to him once) were complications he did not need. Besides... Wolfe likely had a Watcher and he'd have to distract him or her long enough to get Val back to the school and hidden away. For that... Methos might need Joe's help... but Dawson was not exactly in any condition to be helpful. But maybe Joe's daughter Amy could be persuaded. Methos grinned... Amy Brennan-Thomas owed him one... maybe it was time to collect.

Thoughtfully he opened his laptop and emailed Phillip, Eleanor, Marie-France, and Amy. Satisfied with his messages, he closed his laptop... gathered the items from his safe that he had come for... locked up and headed back to MacLeod's barge. The Highlander should be back from the school and he wanted to see just what he had learned.


	13. Chapter 12

****

Chapter 12

New York

It had taken several hours... but Eleanor and Phillip had finally pieced together Derrick's past from his haunted memories. Phillip double-checked some things on-line and found some old news stories. Finally they had it all... or at least enough of it that they now understood some of Derrick's greatest fears.

His adoptive parents and his sister had been killed in a house break-in... one of several which took place in a small New England town over a month-long period. The then three-year-old little boy had vanished. From Derrick's memories, it was evident that the burglars had taken him with them for some reason. Derrick had memories of a woman who cared for him... of traveling all the time... and a sword. Additional research finally solved the puzzle. Staring at the news-photo, Eleanor recognized the woman from her time in the Watchers... she was an immortal named Bess Moran. She'd evidently decided to just keep the boy and raise him to be a companion... she'd done it before. When she tired of her companions... or they wanted to leave... she killed them.

Derrick's fate would have been sealed if he had remained with her much longer. But Bess had evidently run across another immortal... the news story in a mid-western paper spoke of a bloody slaughter at a motel not far from where Eleanor had found the terrorized little boy hiding beneath a highway overpass. Since she'd been passing through... she'd not stayed long enough to read local papers... besides... once Derrick had called her Eleanor... she'd already made up her mind to take him with her.

And then, of course, he'd started doing things and saying things that had reminded her of Darius... and she'd become entranced by the boy. She had no longer been certain what to do... she had become willing to let him make many of their decisions, willing to trust him... trust his judgment. She had been unable to let him go, although she had known it was necessary.

Those things still made no sense. But Derrick's reaction to the guns and to the blood began to come into perspective. They could help him cope with those memories. They could help him understand that it wasn't his fault... it was nothing he had done... and hopefully... given time... and a quiet life somewhere... these things would gradually fade away into a past which would no longer haunt him. Then, perhaps, they might be able to unlock the other set of memories... the ones that simmered under the surface of his infectious grin and broke through when he met immortals.

***

The boy sipped a chocolate shake at a fast food restaurant on 42nd street. He looked at Eleanor thoughtfully. "Ellie?... When Adam was shot... those bullets didn't just bounce off... did they?"

Phillip had eyed the boy thoughtfully but had continued to chew his burger, wiping his mouth with the paper napkin, while Eleanor stirred her salad several times before meeting Derrick's gaze. "No... they didn't bounce off."

"He was shot... but he didn't die." Derrick continued.

Eleanor continued to stir her salad, then took a bite. She chewed and swallowed feeling as though it were something inedible. Phillip said nothing. Finally she lay the plastic fork down and smiled at Derrick while glancing around to make certain no one was within earshot. "He was shot... but he didn't die." She repeated his words back to him... but the difference was in the inflection.

Derrick let out a long breath and seemed to consider her words. "Can he die?"

"All living beings die Derrick."

"Will you die?"

Eleanor paused, feeling that here was the heart of Derrick's greatest fears. She smiled and reached a hand out to take his, "Hopefully not for a long, long time. I wish I could promise I wouldn't die, Derrick, but I can't. But I promise you... I will try not to die until you are grown and no longer need me."

Phillip smiled and shook his head.

Derrick regarded her for a long moment. "What if I always need you?"

"You say that now... but a day will come when you'll want to move on with your life. When that day comes... I'll rejoice in your choices and wish you good fortune and happiness." 

Eleanor recalled a similar conversation she had once had with Miriam, the orphaned Jewish girl she had raised after World War II. There had come a time when she had needed to explain some of her life to the little girl so that she'd understand why her "Mama Marie" did not age and would one day have to leave. While Eleanor still received letters at a post office box in Switzerland from Miriam and her children and grandchildren, she had not seen any of them in almost forty years. It was safer that way. 

Raising Miriam and her brother Joshua had helped Eleanor to find a balance in her life that she had lost when she had absorbed the quickening of Kae Dhun and the power of the quickenings taken from the great sword. Joshua had died as a young man, a victim of the violence of the Middle East... Eleanor had wept bitter tears at his death... he had been as much her son as any child she'd ever known ever was. After his death, she did not want another. His death at an early age had helped her face so many of her own demons. If not for the re-entry of Carerra into her life once more... she might have been fine.

But Carerra had re-entered her life. And then she'd found Derrick. All her reservations about raising another child had vanished when he'd called her "Eleanor, Lady of Light". But Derrick had wanted a sister... and she had thought... I can be a sister. Besides... Derrick was a pre-immortal child. The important thing was to keep him safe to grow up and into his potential... and then... then... her thoughts faltered. Eleanor did not know what would be needed then. From deep within her she heard O ro' dred whisper, "_One day you will have to kill the boy or watch him grow old and die._" She smiled... time enough to face that tomorrow.

She released Derrick's hand and returned to her salad. Phillip wiped his mouth with the napkin once more and took a drink of the soda he'd ordered. He made a face and shook his head. Soda was not Phillip's drink of choice. Derrick sipped at his chocolate shake and his eyes glazed over slightly while he was apparently considering Eleanor's words.

Finally he looked over at her and smiled, "That day won't be for a long, long time Ellie... promise me you'll stay with me for now."

Eleanor nodded, "That's one promise I make gladly, little one."

Phillip cleared his throat, "So while we're here do we take in the Statue of Liberty or something?"

A loud slurp from Derrick indicated he'd finished his shake. He nodded with a big grin... once more only a little boy. Eleanor stirred her salad again. She could eat something later, perhaps. Evidently the eating binge she'd been on the past month or so was at an end. As it had been for the past several years... food was something to just stir and pretend to eat.

Within her the old voices murmured as one, "_We are darkness... we are chaos... we are yours to command!_" Eleanor felt that soon... she and Methos would both have to confront the forces they had unleashed in Seacouver. They could not be suppressed forever... they were darkness and death... they were chaos and destruction... somehow they'd have to face them and finish integrating those aspects of their past back into their respective psyches. If they didn't... those forces might break loose once more onto an unsuspecting world. Eleanor smiled knowingly... but she still had time... they were hers to command for the present. "_Creation is destruction... chaos is order... death is life... all are one... all are one!_" she thought as they exited the restaurant to take Derrick sightseeing.


	14. Chapter 13

****

Chapter 13

Paris

"Me?" Methos managed to get out... his exasperation rising. "Why should I go see the lawyer?"

"Because," smirked MacLeod as he lounged comfortably in his easy chair... a glass of sherry in his hand and the lilting strains of his favorite opera emanating from his sound system, "You have the paperwork... or at least that's what you once told me. I... on the other hand... have never been a lawyer." For once, Duncan had the elder immortal just where he wanted him... and he loved it. He sipped his sherry with more than a hint of appreciation.

Methos put his hands on his hips and stared off into space... his mouth open... his eyes slightly glassy... as he tried to think of a retort. But for once, nothing came to mind. "Fine!" he finally said and sat on the arm of the sofa and clasped his hands. "I'll go see this _avocat_ tomorrow. What's his name?"

MacLeod smiled. "I have it written down somewhere. And... by the way... your presence was also requested at Alisaunne's graduation in a few weeks." The Highlander sipped the sherry once more.

"My presence? Hell!" Methos rose and began to pace the barge. "You surely didn't tell that child I'd come?"

"Mmm..." Duncan murmured. "I rather think I did. She seemed quite taken with you. Quite anxious you should be there." Once more he sipped his sherry. He was rather enjoying his friend's discomfort. Things around here had been all too serious lately... or else Methos had been teasing him about the girl's crush... It was rather nice to turn the tables.

Methos pointed at MacLeod... "You... You did this on purpose... It's because I teased you when she made those big eyes at you isn't it. You set me up MacLeod... You did this on purpose!"

Duncan smiled broadly and shrugged. Then he closed his eyes and sighed deeply. For once... he felt he had the upper hand.

"Bloody hell!" Methos began pacing the room once more. He rubbed one hand over his hair and murmured something about learning to keep his mouth shut. "Paperwork indeed... I haven't been a lawyer in two hundred... no make that four hundred years... How'm I supposed to pull this off!"

"You knew enough to bail me out of jail."

"That was in America and that was easy... Fooling a French estates lawyer will be a little more difficult. Do you have any idea of the paperwork I'll have to have?"

"I'm sure you'll manage." His glass of sherry empty, Duncan poured another and then glanced at Methos and raised one eyebrow in invitation."

"Thanks... but I prefer beer." Methos crossed to the refrigerator and opened the door. "What? Now there's no beer?"

Duncan settled back once more and smirked. "Sorry... I forgot to buy any when I was out." He put his feet up on the coffee table and closed his eyes as he visualized the scenes that accompanied the music. One hand moved in accompaniment to the melody. He opened his eyes and howled in laughter only after he heard Methos leave... slamming the door behind him.

***

Methos exited the barge furiously and hastened onto the _quai_ and up the street. He was under the stone bridge when he slowed to a stop and leaned against the wall. Long ago he had met and challenged MacLeod near this very spot... he'd lost and tried to goad the Highlander into taking his head... hoping he wouldn't and yet wishing he would... ready for an end to the emptiness of his long life. Methos looked down and took a deep breath... thankful MacLeod had found another way... especially now. He removed his right hand from his coat pocket and rubbed his thumb and fingers slightly over the burning palm. He opened and shut his hand several times and thought about Eleanor. He purposely rubbed both of his palms together and concentrated... trying to recall the visions they had begun to share... But there was only the need to finish... the need to complete what they had begun... A darkness deeper than anything he had ever known clung to the periphery of his vision... waiting for him.

Finally he stood free of the wall and turned back to the barge. He still had work to do... time was pressing on him to find the answers before it ran out. He replaced his hands in his coat pockets and took a deep breath... he could do this... he could banter with MacLeod... he could even go to that silly girl's graduation if necessary... if he were still here... if he had the time. As long as it kept the eyes of the Watchers on him and not on Eleanor, Derrick and Phillip... he could do this... and... he could survive even the self-righteous Duncan MacLeod. Slowly he returned to the barge, making certain a mocking and sardonic expression was on his face as he entered once more.

***

Nick listened to the rock music blaring from the live band at _Sanctuary_ and nodded his head to the beat as he held the beer. The jostling and loud crowd milled about... some dancing... some drinking... some talking loudly... a few attempting their best pick-up lines. He was centered and alone in their midst... just sipping the beer and ... his eyes snapped open as the approaching buzz of an immortal made him want to turn and stare. But he didn't. Slowly he took another drink and waited until the sense of someone immediately near him finally made him turn.

Before him was a young woman of perhaps twenty-five... short brown hair... brown eyes... wearing a dark navy blue suit. She smiled at him. Nick turned and leaned his back against the bar, staring at her and letting his eyes travel appreciatively up and down her curvaceous form. "May I help you?" he finally asked.

"If you are Nick Wolfe," she said... very French... the accent thick on her words.

Nick sat up slightly and nodded. "That would be me."

"I'm Sister Marie-France... I'm a friend of Valeraine. I was told you would know how I could locate her."

"_A nun?_" Nick thought as he immediately straightened up and offered her a seat. Then he thought better of it.

"It's all right... I'm not uncomfortable here." She smiled warmly. 

Nick rubbed one hand over his forehead. "I can take you to Val... She's over at my place... my boss doesn't like her in here when he's open."

"No... I don't imagine he would." Once again the nun smiled warmly. 

Nick rose and took her arm... then dropped it. 

Marie-France laughed at the young immortal's flustered movements and then took his arm and whispered. "Just relax... I wasn't always a nun. I do know how the world works... although I gave it up long ago."

Nick closed his eyes and nodded. He'd take her to Val... and then they'd both leave. He could go back to his day job and his empty life. He took a deep breath and led the nun from _Sanctuary_.

Once they reached his rooms he stood back and tried to follow the argument between the two female immortals as to what they should do next.

Marie-France was for starting back to the convent school immediately. There were too many uncertainties out here... Val, on the other hand, saw no reason to leave before morning. She was in no hurry to hide away once more on holy ground. She was here and she wanted to hunt before she went back. Around and around they argued... quietly... no screaming or tantrums... just two women of another age who had known each other so long that they could finish one another's sentences and anticipate the other's objections. 

Nick knew Val did not want to return to the convent at all... that she wanted to stay in Paris and be a part of whatever her friend Pierson was involved in. Marie-France was equally adamant that the girl did not belong here... that if she stayed... she would stay without a protector. Finally it was the lateness of the night that seemed to give Val the winning argument.

Nick gave the women his bed and stretched out on the couch. Somehow... he had a bad feeling that nothing was going to go quite as he had hoped. What was it about these female immortals... and he included Amanda in that group... that made them so damned hard to deal with? He reached behind him and pulled out his wallet... removing a cropped and tattered snapshot of Amanda taken in better days... just after they had come to Paris. When he'd still had illusions about what they might become to one another... given time. He rubbed his thumb over her face and took a deep breath... closing his eyes... trying to hear her... hearing instead only a gunshot... "_Forgive me,_" she'd said as she pulled the trigger. He stared once more at her face... at the close-cropped platinum hair... the laughing mouth... those sparkling dark eyes. Then he replaced it sharply into his wallet and closed it with a snap... throwing it onto the coffee table. He closed his eyes... and focused his thoughts on the sound of water dripping slowly from his kitchen faucet. Finally he slept.


	15. Chapter 14

****

Chapter 14

New York

For Cassandra, the meeting with Phillip had yielded few clues concerning the whereabouts of the Ancient's crystal. Even under the compulsion of her voice... all Phillip could say was that Little Sister's husband had planned the heist and that he'd confiscated the crystal. Phillip had never seen nor heard of it again. Curiously... Phillip had seemed unable to offer even the broadest detail of the heist or of the true identity of Little Sister's husband... he was Edward Gray... that seemed to be all Phillip knew or could say for certain.

Failing to discover more... Cassandra had placed the compulsion in his mind to find out something about the crystal... perhaps from his student... the one he called Little Sister. She'd had to be careful... Phillip seemed almost immune to her voice... but not quite... as though there were aspects of his life and the identity of some of his friends which were so buried beneath an even greater compulsion that he not reveal them. Cassandra could not help but wonder if Lilith... or Danae as he still called her... was the root of this apparent resistance.

The Ancient had had great power. Yet even now... Cassandra wondered if she had truly been as powerful as she had seemed... or if it had all been slight of hand... smoke and mirrors... a trick of the eye.

***********

__

Palestine ca 900 b.c.e.

Xandra ducked her head as the stones were thrown. She knew she would re-awaken if they killed her. If she were lucky... this would be quick... but it was always painful. And she never knew exactly where she would find herself when she awoke once more.

In the years since her flight from the camp of the hated horsemen... she had come to learn that it was not just because of the one called Methos that she returned to life... he was nowhere to be seen... It seemed to just be something that happened to her.

As yet... she had met no others... but she had heard tales that demons who could not die walked the earth. She believed it... she had met at least one... likely four if all four of them were like her. The dizzying wail that she had always sensed while a slave in their camp had faded as she had run. Despite several deaths... she had not yet felt that sickening feeling again.

Another stone landed on her head and she felt warm blood trickle down her face. She wailed in pain... it was what the crowd seemed to expect... and huddled on the ground... wishing only that it were over.

Even before the next stone hit her back leaving what was likely a huge bruise that would soon fade, Xandra began to sense what she had known in the horsemen's camp... That buzzing cry that seemed to fill her mind with the sound of a thousand voices wailing on the wind. Xandra dared to lift her head... fearful that they had found her... Was there no end to this life... must she die and be reborn into pain and terror forever?

Xandra saw the villagers part as waves before an oncoming force. Soon there was a wide gap surrounding a tall, dark-haired woman who gazed at her with a sorrowful expression.

Another rock hit Xandra's head... and this time... the darkness claimed her.

***

She awoke in the cool semi-darkness of one of the caves that seemed to litter this portion of the countryside. At first she feared she might have been enclosed in a tomb... but Xandra heard low voices and was faintly aware of a pale light flickering. Then she realized the wail that she had felt just before that last rock had hit her, was still here with her... so close and so much a part of her... that it had seemed to fade into the background.

Xandra sat up quickly and glanced about for anything she could use as a weapon. They... whoever they were... would not have her. She would kill them and leave them and run... run... run... as she had been running for nearly a century. Her hands at last located a fist-sized rock. She hefted it in her hand and then, crouching a bit from the low ceiling of the cave, approached the voices and the light.

As her eyes adjusted to the greater light at the campfire, Xandra blinked and held her empty hand before her eyes. At the fire was an old, bald man, with a scraggly white beard. He glanced up at her and she noticed that his right eye had turned white. Across from him sat the tall dark-haired woman Xandra had seen in the crowd just before she'd been hit by that last rock.

She raised the rock in her hand and made a threatening motion. The old man laughed at her, shook his head, and then rose to leave. He made some sarcastic remark to the woman as he exited the cave.

Xandra faced the woman and drew back her hand once more, "I'm not afraid to use this."

"Put it down child... there is no need for your fear with me."

Xandra hesitated. Then she drew back her arm again and threw the rock at the woman. The woman smiled as she casually lifted one hand to catch the thrown rock and toss it back and forth between her hands. Then she tossed it behind her as if it were no matter.

Xandra turned looking for something else to throw.

"You cannot hurt me child... Look within yourself and you will know this to be true. If you wish to go... then do so... no one here will stop you... But I'd advise you to stay away from the village to the north... That is where you were when I found you."

"Who are you?" Xandra finally managed to get out.

The woman smiled and shrugged. "Around here they call me Lilith. Over the years I've learned... one name is as good as another."

"You are like me... you cannot die?"

Lilith threw back her head and laughed a great lusty laugh. When it finally subsided she chuckled at Xandra, "Child... all living things die in their own time. You and I simply have a little more time than the others."

Xandra was momentarily startled when the old man returned. Her sense of another like herself and the woman Lilith was re-doubled. This old one was one, too. He said something to Lilith in a tongue that Xandra did not know... The tall woman nodded. "Stay here in the cave child." Then she rose, grasped a stout staff and made her way out of the cave. The old man's gaze followed the departing woman... but he re-settled himself by the fire and stared into it with his one good eye.

"You too are one that cannot die?" Xandra asked him.

He looked over at her and stared... then slowly he nodded his head. Xandra felt there was a great sadness in the man and wondered how old he was... how long had he walked the earth? "Were you always this way?" she asked him.

Once more he simply stared at her without speaking. Then he sighed. "My speech is not so pleasant a thing to hear... I have troubles with this tongue... language." He shrugged a bit and chuckled.

Xandra felt herself relaxing a bit. Neither of these two seemed too terribly dangerous... at least they weren't mistreating her. She glanced up in concern at the sound of raised voices outside the cave.

"Should we help her?"

"She does not need our help girl... That one can summon even the lightning if she chooses."

Xandra shook her head. This made no sense to her. Once again the sounds of voices rose outside the cave. Then there was only silence and the mournful whistling of the wind.

Lilith returned and lay her staff against the wall. She closed her eyes, shaking her head sadly, and then seemed to shrug it all off. "Are you hungry child?" she asked Xandra.

"Yes... that was their reason for stoning me... I was hungry and stole some fruit at the market." 

"So I gather. They were angry I took you in. I have paid for the fruit you took... and twice more besides." Lilith motioned to a basket near the door. "Take what you need child and go in peace if that is your wish."

Xandra sidled over to the basket and filled both of her hands with the ripe pulpy fruit of the area. She bit into one and then devoured it. She started on the second one and grabbed a third out of the basket with her empty hand. Then she paused and stared at the couple sitting quietly at the fire. Chewing thoughtfully, Xandra asked, "I can really just go?"

"If that is your choice. You may take what you need and go... or..." Lilith paused and smiled coldly at Xandra, "... or... you can stay and learn how to live."

"I live." Xandra retorted.

"If that is what you call it." Lilith turned away from her and stirred the fire thoughtfully.

Xandra finished the second fruit. She started to bite into the third one, and then thought better of it. She no longer had her pouch... or anyway to carry extra food. She had nothing. Staring at the gift of fruit in her hand Xandra considered what Lilith was saying... what she was offering... how to live versus how to survive... Xandra knew the woman was right... She needed to learn to live again. Slowly Xandra replaced the fruit gently in the basket... her hunger satisfied by the two she had eaten... and returned to the fire.

"Teach me then... why are we this way? How can we die and finally end this torture?"

Lilith continued to stir the fire for a long time. Finally she glanced at Xandra, "I don't normally meet with our kind after the change... but for you child... I will make an exception...for in you is a great gift... one that if properly developed may change the game."

"Game? What game is this you speak of?"

The old man laughed at her questions... but it was a gentle and patient laugh. "Girl... now you ask the questions that I, with my Lady's permission, will answer."

The woman smiled and nodded at her companion. And so the three of them remained huddled about the fire until a rosy dawn fingered her way into the morning sky.


	16. Chapter 15

****

Chapter 15

Venice, Italy

Amanda struggled out of her nightmare. She had been with Rebecca... trying to warn her to be wary of Luther... trying to help her teacher as once Rebecca had helped her... only... Rebecca could not hear Amanda... could not see Amanda... and Amanda watched helplessly as Rebecca knelt before Luther and died.

Tears sprang to Amanda's eyes as she curled around the pillow... hugging it and feeling the loss of her dearest friend... Why? It had been years... Was it being here in Rebecca's old home that was doing this? Or was it something else? Guilt was not something she often felt... but she felt it now... guilt that she had failed all of those near to her.

She had failed Rebecca by never reaching her own potential. Instead of learning to face her fears and her choices... she continued to run... continued to steal... continued to find the easy way out. Whenever life became difficult... she left. 

She had failed Kenneth by dying and by not searching for him long enough to have found him... guided him... helped him to choose a better path... Somewhere out there was an eight hundred year old immortal trapped in the body of a child... a child who was not a child. The last time she had seen him, Kenneth had tried to take Duncan's head... and the kiss the boy had given Amanda just before that attempt, had been that of an old man... frustrated beyond words that he could never have the one thing he wanted. Her! She might yet have to kill him... 

She had failed Duncan by her inability to commit to him once he had been ready for that commitment. For centuries she had pursued him... asked him to run away with her... but he never had... not really. Then... after his dreams of how her life might have been without him... once he was ready... she had run... and was running still... because what he was asking for was a commitment to him... a commitment Amanda had suddenly realized she couldn't make.

But most of all, Amanda had failed Nick by not trusting him... not allowing him to make that final decision... by choosing immortality for him rather than letting him die. And yet... if she had asked and he had said, "Yes,"... would that not have endangered his re-awakening? Without that shock of an unexpected death... would he have simply died anyway? There were legends about that, Rebecca had once told her. "_We never tell them... we must leave them to fate! Else... they may never become all that they should._" Nick's fate was to die by poison... and Amanda had interfered... not being able to just let him die. And he had hated her for it.

She had come here... to Rebecca's old home then... to try and learn to be a better person. To learn to take responsibility for her actions... to stop running... to face who and what she was... and to learn how to make a difference. Day by day she focused on her shortcomings as she tried to face all the choices of her existence... and the emptiness her life had become.

Some days were good. Amanda would sit in the sun and read or garden. She'd walk along the countryside and observe the mortals in the humdrum activities of their single life. She'd watch the children and laugh at their games. She'd listen to music... she'd draw or paint... and dream of better days.

Some days were bad. Amanda would huddle in her bed and weep and not know why this behavior had overtaken her life. She'd storm through the villa and throw things in exasperation. Bella... her housekeeper would follow along behind her and once the storm passed... she'd set the house to rights once more. There were few breakables left.

But most days simply were... one unremarkable day after another. Amanda was often bored and depressed by the sameness of daily life. But it was that sameness... she had never had... had always feared... and must learn to accept. Once she could face that... then perhaps she would be ready to face the world once more.

So... here she remained... and one day followed another.

If she were dreaming again... likely it would be a bad day... and she would toss the crockery and throw the furniture, screaming until she could scream no more and lay exhausted on the cool marble floor.

"I'm trying Rebecca... I'm really, really trying... but sometimes... it's just so very, very hard!" Amanda screamed to her departed teacher and heard only the sound of her own voice in echoes about the room. She was alone... she had no one... Amanda needed to rebuild her life... She needed to find a balance and make amends for all that she had done and failed to do... She needed peace. Amanda wadded the silk sheets in her hands and pounded the mattress again and again. Still... all she heard was the sound of her own voice.

Were the answers she sought even here? Or was this simply another means of running away from responsibility? Of running away from commitment? Was she substituting one evasion for another?

She threw back the sheets and stormed through the villa seeking to wreak destruction. If she destroyed everything... would she then be free? Could she then move on with her life?

Outside... a full moon shown down on a peaceful countryside. But for Amanda... there was no peace.

***

****

New York

Phillip and Eleanor paused at the doors to _St. Patrick's_. They had entered with Derrick... but as usual... Eleanor's unease on holy ground had made her halt just inside the door. 

The boy... as though he had not a care in the world... had continued in and made his way to the small chapel where the remembrance candles burned in ruby red cups. There were banks and banks of them. He knelt before them and stared for a long time... then reached over to light one. Derrick pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket... squirreled away from other times and other days... He carefully inserted it all into the poor box.

A passing priest noticed the boy putting the money in and smiled to himself. The soup kitchen would have funds to operate... the food shuttles would have gas... the church could continue its ministries for another day. He glanced up at the boy's "parents" at the door... He smiled at the dark-haired young woman and the bearded man... wondering why they did not enter... but he had duties to attend to and passed them by...

Phillip put his arm around his student and watched with wonder as the boy lit another candle. "Just where is all this coming from? With what we know of his past now... this doesn't seem to fit!" he whispered.

"I know," sighed Eleanor. "Now do you see why he entrances me still. He never explained this... it was just something he always felt the need to do."

They'd come to the cathedral at Derrick's insistence. The trip to the Statue of Liberty had gone well. There had been nothing unforeseen in the ferryboat ride out and the walk around Liberty Island or their close-up views of the statue. They couldn't climb it... it was still closed to the public. But as he had gazed out at the waters surrounding the island... Derrick had murmured, "I should have gone to see the ocean... I should have crossed it by boat to explore the new land."

A shiver had gone down Phillip's back at that point, so when the boy had wished to see a church... the Greek had meekly nodded. Eleanor had hugged Derrick and agreed, but Phillip had seen tears brimming in her eyes. Was this what she had dealt with for four years? No wonder losing him had torn at her. No wonder she had wondered if there were something more to this boy than just a boy who needed her in his life.

When Derrick was finished with the candles and his donation... he walked quietly back to the couple and took their hands with a smile. They could go on now... there was still so much to see in this city... so many streets to explore... so many people to help... so much to learn and experience. For the first time in several months... Derrick's mind was calm and at peace. He gave Eleanor's hand an extra squeeze and walked out into the late afternoon sun.

***

****

London

Nathan Barlow'd had little success in studying the peerage and land records... it was almost as if this Lord Gray did not exist. It was almost as if someone had altered the original records to erase any mention of him other than that one little slip concerning the Earl of Madison. Barlow pulled another volume from the shelf. For someone to have been that careful... he'd had to have been immortal... and a very cagey one, too.

This would not be easy. The one slip had occurred in some recently published memoirs of an ancestor by someone who may have been trying to make some fast cash. Racy memoirs based on an old set of family diaries must have seemed a quick solution to a cash-flow problem. Barlow had no idea if the book had actually made any money... but at least it had made it into print. In official records... as he'd told Cassandra... Fitzcairn was the only possible immortal mentioned... but were there other of these unofficial records? He hoped so. Barlow liked being paid well... and the psychic immortal paid well. Besides... there was one payment she teased him with and had never delivered. Perhaps this time... yes... if he could find the crystal... she would finally offer herself to him.

Barlow opened the volume he planned to study. He groaned... No index! Sadly he settled in for a long afternoon. At least his speed-reading would get a workout.


	17. Chapter 16

****

Chapter 16

Paris

Startled, Nick Wolfe looked up from his light sleep to see Valeraine standing over him. In her hands was his wallet.

She held up Amanda's picture, "Amanda... I presume?"

Nick grabbed both from the immortal child's hands, stuffed the photo back in the wallet and shoved it into his rear pants pocket. "Anyone ever teach you not to snoop?"

"Occupational hazard... Sorry Nick... I was... curious." Val shrugged with a small smile and then sat on the edge of the table. "Tell me about her? Old love?"

Nick lay back, covering his eyes with one hand. "Hardly!" she said curtly.

"Explain... you are far too wrought over her every time her name comes up for it to have been a love affair gone bad."

Nick sighed. "She killed me," he blurted out... instantly regretting it.

"But you _are_ still here..." Her small child's voice once again seemed to employ inflections of age and wisdom. "Tell me about it."

Finally Nick briefly explained how Amanda had killed him to make him immortal... how he'd been dying of poison when she'd shot him.

"Did you know about us... about her?" the girl asked. Behind Val... Marie-France had arisen and was quietly puttering about in Nick's kitchen looking for tea or coffee. She was already dressed.

Nick nodded. "Yeah... she died in front of me once... I had questions... she had answers."

"And you don't take 'No!' for an answer." Val laughed a bit at that. "Then why so upset with her? She obviously did you a favor."

"Not one I was interested in," Nick answered harshly... then headed to the bathroom, anxious to end this conversation.

Valeraine glanced at Marie-France, cautiously sipping her hot tea. "Now do you see why I don't want to leave yet? He needs someone... someone to watch over him." The girl smiled at her friend.

Marie-France blew on the tea, "I was thinking the same thing... but what exactly, _cherie_, did you have in mind?" 

Valeraine slumped on the table. "I'm not certain... but at least he needs to find some joy in his life."

"Hunting with you?"

Valeraine grinned... she arched her eyebrows but said nothing at first. Then she crossed to Marie-France. "Is there any coffee?"

Marie-France sighed, shaking her head. This situation was getting increasingly complicated. Yet, there had been no one else she'd felt comfortable sending after Valeraine. The girl was exceptionally smart and she could usually get her own way. Marie-France chuckled. Well... maybe a short stay in Paris was in order... no matter what the good Dr. Edmund Adams had said. Besides... it had been a while since she'd been here... and she had always loved Paris. After all... one couldn't always huddle on holy ground. Darius' death had proven that. She glanced up as Nick exited the bathroom. Perhaps he'd like to give her some lessons... she knew how to use a sword... but it had been a while... This might be a good excuse to refresh her skills. Once more she blew into the tea and then sipped. Surely two eight hundred year old immortals could handle one green one.

***

****

New York

Cassandra had cleared her appointment book. Melanie Pryor wondered just what the immortal she was Watching was up to. She'd left hastily the other day... no explanation... and with a room full of clients... all needing to be rescheduled... so Melanie had been unable to follow Cassandra... or to get in touch with Cassandra's back-up Watcher. They all had back-ups these days. In the past few years... too many immortals had been lost... and too many now knew they existed. So the Watchers' routines had changed. Still... sometimes they were still losing the immortals when they made sudden changes in their daily routine.

Yesterday, Cassandra had explained she was closing her practice. Melanie glanced once more at the bonus check Cassandra had given her then as a lay-off bonus. She'd have to turn the funds over to the Watchers... but she'd get a nice cut nevertheless. Today Melanie had been busy clearing the calendar and making arrangements for the office supply rental place to pick up Cassandra's things here, ending the lease agreement... everything that needed to be done... she had spent the day doing.

Oh, Cassandra had been most apologetic... most kind in explaining that she just needed to close up and move on. Melanie had been a good worker... she would give her excellent recommendations. Melanie had meekly been grateful thinking all the while that with this turn of events... someone else would likely be assigned permanently to the psychic and Melanie would be re-assigned elsewhere. She wondered just whom she would get. Perhaps she could finagle a foreign assignment this time. Sadly she looked around at the empty office suite and gathered her things. The life of a Watcher is never easy... nor ever really dull. Melanie turned out the lights and locked the door.

It was still early... she could catch brunch with her supervisor and make her final report on Cassandra.

***

Cassandra had quietly booked a flight for London. Although she'd not yet heard anything from either Nathan Barlow or the Greek Captain now calling himself Phillip... from what she had already gathered... Lord Edward Gray... whoever he was... had lived in London at one time. Perhaps he still did.

Using an alias she had never before used... she was settled onto the flight and had carefully observed the other passengers as they boarded. While Cassandra appeared to be reading a magazine... she was scanning and watching the wrists of those who walked by.

While she knew little about the "watchers" Duncan MacLeod had told her about... and had never actually been aware of one on her... she was certain someone had to be. Well... she just had to be circumspect as if someone was following her.

She shifted the dark glasses over her green eyes but managed not to reach up to see if her hair was still calmly contained within the bun. She knew the clothes were not to her personal liking... far too severe and unflattering... but they might help her to avoid being caught by a casual observer. Her height had been another matter. She couldn't hide that too well. So she entered the plane early and hoped to remain seated. It was cutting her fingernails that had upset her the most though.

She'd worn them long for quite a while. She was proud of them! She could wear them long and still wield a sword! But they were, she had realized, a dead giveaway... and they could grow back. Cutting her hair and dying it might be the next step if someone picked up on her. But it was necessary if she were to locate Lilith's crystal.

The airline crew prepared for final departure and soon the plane was taxi-ing out to the runway. Cassandra was on her way to London. Hopefully... the Ancient's crystal would be there.


	18. Chapter 17

****

Chapter 17

Paris

David Maillot swished his _epee'_ before him in a salute toward his small class. The seven senior girls of _Academie de Sacre' Coeur_ returned his salute smartly and turned to face each other with a bow. He'd arranged them for this final exam according to ability. Sophie and Lisabet... the least likely were the first to fence. The winner would face Simone.

David spared a swift glance at the best of them... Alisaunne. When Liam Riley had begged him a few years ago to set up a class at this small school... David had been reluctant. Teaching a new immortal the ropes occasionally was one thing... but a bunch of schoolgirls?

"There is a girl there I once promised Darius I'd help keep an eye on... After his death... I tried to, but I have no real reason to keep showing up at the school. You've taught classes before... perhaps...?" Liam had raised an eyebrow.

So David had checked the situation out. For the last six years he'd been teaching at the school about once a week. Of all the girls who had passed through his classes... only the young pre-immortal Alisaunne appeared to have a flair for it. She had taken to the art with a grace that belied her youth. Of course... this was only tournament fencing... and an _epee_' could in no way stand up to the onslaught of a true immortal... but... at least when and if something happened to the girl... she'd have some idea of how to proceed. 

Sophie emerged victorious from her match... as expected. David had always chuckled at Lisabet's graceless inability to perform even the simplest moves. But she tried... and that was important. David nodded at Simone who saluted Sophie and the two began their match. These two were evenly skilled... neither was that good... but then... neither would ever have to be.

David watched Alisaunne as she followed the movement. Already in her eyes he could sense that she was memorizing her possible opponent's moves and already considering how best to counter them... not that she'd even likely face either of them in this competition. But it indicated to Maillot, that the girl was beginning to see beyond the current moment... to a time when she might have to face one of them... or someone like them.

David had given her extra lessons... explaining to Mother Magdelena that Alisaunne might be interested in joining a _universite'_ fencing team after graduation... that she was that good. Of course one of the sisters had always been present for each private lesson... but David'd had no problem with that... he was just here to teach the girl. Perhaps after she moved on... he could step up some training. Private lessons... yes... possibly sometime in the future.

Sophie defeated Simone. David nodded. For all her inabilities... Sophie did not like to lose and could sometimes surprise the other girl. Well... this next duel would tax her abilities. David nodded to Marie. Tall and graceful, Marie could move fluidly. She had, however, little interest in fencing... but if she had... she might have been... adequate. Sophie again triumphed! David smiled... this might prove interesting for a while.

Sophie's next opponent would be Marisol. But since she'd fought three matches... David called a break so she would have the chance to recuperate. He motioned to Alisaunne. He'd use her to illustrate some additional techniques.

Back and forth they fenced... Alisaunne concentrating on his every move and countering it beautifully. David... all the while... kept up a steady stream of explanation to the other girls. He explained what the moves and counter-moves were and how best to deflect the opponent's move and how best to defend and guard oneself. The six girls nodded... but he could see several eyes glass over. They were more interested in other things... especially their up-coming graduation.

"_Touché!_" David suddenly ended the match with his touch to Alisaunne's heart. He smiled and bowed at her. She was far ahead of the others... but she was light-years still behind him. Removing her mask... Alisaunne bowed to her instructor and re-took her seat... breathing heavily.

"_Good_," thought David. "_She may be pressed later on_."

Sophie... Marisol!" The two girls masked and began their match. Once again Sophie triumphed. Desire outweighing skill.

"Jeanne!" he barked. This time... Sophie was clearly out-matched and the duel was over almost before it began.

David then stood back to watch the final match with satisfaction... Jeanne and Alisaunne! They were clearly the best. Jeanne had been coming on recently... improving as if she were determined to finally beat the other girl. Jeanne was the one who usually got the top grades in all the classes and being second to anyone was not something she liked to accept. Determined to finish first... even in fencing... a class she had little real interest in... Jeanne had been practicing on her own.

Alisaunne almost looked like an expert though... against the girl... and then she seemed to just toy with Jeanne... allowing the match to go on... obviously leaving openings for Jeanne to take advantage of... openings that Jeanne either failed to see... or simply did not wish to. David nodded and smiled... this was good. For once... strategy was coming into play in Alisaunne's fencing... not just her skill. Finally... it ended, as he knew it would. The pre-immortal girl called "_Touché_!" and the match was over.

"_Bravo_ Jeanne!" David clapped his hands. "Magnificent effort."

In the distance they heard the soft chapel bell announcing the end of classes for this day. David dismissed his class. "Alisaunne... a moment of your time." Sister Annuncion paused at the door instead of following the remainder of the girls. David nodded his head toward the nun. "Only a moment Sister... I shall only keep her a moment."

Sister Annuncion re-took her seat by the door.

"Following your graduation... you will be moving over to the _universite'_ I understand."

"Yes, _Monsieur_ Maillot. I will be taking a few summer courses as I settle in."

"I hope you will continue with your fencing... I know the fencing coach there... I could put in a word with him to observe your technique."

"My thanks, _Monsieur_..." Alisaunne grinned. "I would like to... if I have the time."

David nodded with a smile and dismissed the girl. He sincerely hoped she would have the time. Time to finish growing up... time to live a life before being caught up in the game. He worried about her being at the _universite'_ and out in the world. He shrugged... alas... that is the way of it. At least she would have some skill if something happened.... and he would continue to keep an eye on her.

***

Kenny was still hanging around that silly girls' school watching and observing the comings and goings of all. He'd seen MacLeod yesterday emerge from the place and had been thankful that he had been out of range. But... curious as to MacLeod's purpose in being here... he'd crept up closely to the iron grill fence and tried to figure out the Highlander's reasons for his visit.

When he'd sensed the pre-immortal girl... Kenny had grinned. This might be fun... especially if she'd leave the school-grounds. True... there would be very little power... but if it would upset the Highlander... then it might be worth it.

That was before that other immortal had showed up this afternoon. Kenny had luckily been on the roof of the building opposite when the tall, rapier-thin man had arrived... obviously carrying a sword case. Kenny had only briefly felt him and had immediately backed out of range. The other... hadn't seemed to have felt him... he must be quite a bit younger... or perhaps he was focused on other things. At any rate... Kenny had wondered if he could somehow get this one, too. Perhaps the little lost waif act would work on this one. 

He could always get to the girl later.


	19. Chapter 18

****

Chapter 18

New York

Eleanor was beginning to worry about Phillip. He had been so quiet the past day or so... not like himself at all. 

She leaned forward on the park bench... observing Derrick's play with other children on the playground equipment. The boy seemed so much better these past few days and he was sleeping through the nights... as though simply remembering and at last talking about his memories had finally walled them off or rendered them powerless.

Eleanor rubbed her palms. Already they were burning again. She and Methos would have to finish the bonding ritual before too much longer. She supposed his rather long and involved memories were the reason it was taking her so long to respond and be ready for their next attempt. That... and trying to incorporate those other old memories that did not quite make sense to her yet. They would... Eleanor had faith in that... but only once they'd finished.

Lately, she'd discovered, that if she closed her eyes and concentrated... she could almost sense him... as now... hunched over a computer and grumbling about something MacLeod was having him do. For a moment he seemed to pause... as if aware of her... he rubbed his own palms and she felt him... she shivered as she felt his need for her. Then she pulled back, casually rubbing her hands over her arms as she regarded Derrick and Phillip.

With Derrick being better... they could likely take a flight now... but it was Phillip she was beginning to worry about. He seemed so distant... as if his mind were on something else entirely. He was clearly uneasy... and worried. She had never known Phillip to really worry about anything... not in over eleven hundred years.

Even now... he stood within reach of Derrick... casually at parade rest... but ready to move if need be... and yet... he did not truly seem to be himself.

Was it the sword? She and Methos had worried about that... but it needed to stay near Derrick. If Derrick would accept the sword... as he had not yet... the sword would be silenced for a while. It bothered her... but she had long ago turned a deaf ear to it. It had always wanted something from her that she was never willing to give... especially not now.

She smiled and shivered again, this time she felt Methos as though he were behind her breathing on her neck. He could do it too! For a moment his hands seemed to slip beneath her clothing to trail along the patterns. The bond was growing! Eleanor smiled, leaned back and let out a ragged breath... yes... something of him was definitely here. She could almost hear his laughter... then it faded and he was gone. She shook her head to clear her thoughts.

Eleanor stood, dusting off her rear as she walked over to Phillip's side. She stuck her hands in her rear jeans pockets and shifted her weight onto one leg as she crossed the other in front of her. "What say we see about some dinner?" she asked Phillip. The Greek nodded absently. But his eyes had a distant and glassy look to them.

***

That night... Phillip sat up late. Derrick and Eleanor were asleep in one bed. At least the boy seemed to have given up the floor for the time being. Perhaps that was a good sign_. The stone! Ask about the stone!_ He'd heard that all day inside his head. So far he'd managed to say nothing... but he was uncertain how much longer he could manage that.

Staring at the keyboard of Eleanor's laptop Phillip considered their flight options. Finally he made his decision. They'd fly tourist class... a little more crowded... but ultimately safer. He'd have to ship the swords... already he was making arrangements so that they'd go separately but that they could pick them up once they'd arrived. He hated that part of flying... still... there was no other way. Certainly not in today's climate and security!

Another alias would have to be used. Phillip sighed, shaking his head at how fast they were going through them. Once again he thought about just going home... about fading once more from sight... lost to the world of immortals and Watchers alike... He could govern his island... build his hospital... oversee his property... rest... For a moment he closed his eyes and could see Niebos as clearly as if he were there. He could feel the sun on his face and smell the salt tang in the air. He could hear the laughter of his people and taste the wine he made from his own vineyard. Just as suddenly it was all gone. 

He glanced over at the sleeping duo. Derrick on his right side... slightly curled up... beneath the covers. Eleanor the same... on top of the covers... under a spare blanket... her arms about him. In her sleep she moaned suddenly... casting her arms outward... as though reaching for something... or someone. Then she rolled onto her back and arched it as though reacting to something... or someone. She let out a ragged breath... then shivered and curled up on her right side once more. 

Something was definitely going on with her. Ever since she and Methos had taken care of Peter Taylor... there had been an even stronger connection than the one that he had always sensed between them. From that first time he'd seen them together in the Black Forest... until that last wake on Niebos... for over eight hundred years... those two had never been able to stay apart for very long. Like oil and water sometimes... different... but once mixed together... a truly amazing pair! On Niebos he'd seen the beginnings of their intense attraction to one another once more. In fact... that last day... he'd have almost bet they'd have renewed their relationship... but then Methos had left and Eleanor had remained... not quite ready. Now... Phillip shook his head. Now they were apart once more... but somehow they were together. So here he was... keeping an eye on her as he had done for so long... and not just her... but the boy as well.

Yet still Niebos called him home.

No... he had a job to do first. One he had promised Danae long ago. "_Be my champion!_" she had asked him when she'd sent him off to war. Her green eyes had been so sad that day... Perhaps she had known the fate that awaited him. "_Be my champion... for all time_!" Phillip smiled... he was that... above and beyond all other concerns... he was that.

Slowly he closed the laptop and stretched. Tomorrow they'd leave. All the plans were made. He crossed to the other bed and stretched out to get some sleep. At least tomorrow on the plane... that damned sword wouldn't be so close!


	20. Chapter 19

****

Chapter 19

__

Palestine, ca.900 b.c.e.

Xandra could not help but smile as the residents of the small desert town made the sign of the evil eye when they passed her. She was sitting with O ro' dred in the market as the old potter offered some of his wares for sale. In the three months she had been with the two immortals... Xandra had seen little of Lilith... the tall one would leave and be gone for days... and then just as suddenly return. Where she went and what she did were not things she discussed with Xandra.

Xandra would often awaken with the sense of Lilith nearby and rise to find the old one sitting under the stars cross-legged and staring into a great glowing crystal. But whenever Xandra approached... Lilith would simply cover the stone and replace it in her great bag. The Ancient said little. Xandra had no concept of how old the woman was... O ro' dred simply said she was among the eldest of their kind. That she had seen and done many things... lived many lives.

In Lilith's eyes, Xandra saw always a great sadness as if the Ancient had lost all that was dear to her... and wished somehow to reclaim it. Although she herself was only just over one hundred years in age... Xandra could understand loss... and within her was a need to punish those who had stolen her life from her... the fabled horsemen... who were already fading to legend among the mortals of this world.

An old woman passed the blanket of clay pots... stopped long enough to spit at Xandra... then began to haggle with O ro' dred over the price of an especially nice two-handled jug. He haggled back with an eager grin... then compromised with the old woman, settling for a pittance of what the jug was likely worth.

After the old woman left with her newly acquired treasure, Xandra asked him, "That pot was especially nice... why did you let her have it for so little?"

"I can always make more pots... I sell them to have a reason to be here in this place at this time... it is what I was... what I still am... what I will always be at the heart of me... a simple craftsman... no one of great importance."

"But she was taking advantage of you!"

"Was she..." he chuckled merrily, "Perhaps I was taking advantage of her. She will display her treasure... she will mention the great deal she got at its purchase... and more will come to buy my wares. Besides... she was poor... what she paid was likely all she had to offer."

"How is it you know this?"

"Her dress... her attitude... perhaps a widow... no sons... no daughters... determined to be on her own... not willing for others to think of her as needing charity." He shrugged. "If one watches people... one learns more about them than they think they are telling you."

Xandra nodded. "Why do they still hate me?"

"I'd say your eyes." O ro' dred murmured as he began trilling his spiel to a passer-by. Later he remarked that they were green like the Lady's. "Around here... they think she is angel or demon... something not quite human... and they are right, of course."

"Why do they call her Lilith? It is not her name is it?"

"No... " But O ro' dred was silent as to the reason.

Xandra learned it one day by listening to the women gathering water at the well. Normally when Xandra came for water... the women would be silent and stare at her... or spit at her. Once, a few days ago... she had come upon them talking about Lilith and had waited nearby... unseen... to hear what it was they were saying.

Now, Xandra waited for the Ancient to return from her most recent journey... She wanted to speak to Lilith about what she'd heard. She wanted also to know what gift it was she had inside her... what gift the Ancient wanted her to learn to use. At last she felt her return.

Xandra crept out of the cave and stood beneath the canopy of stars. In the heavens she could see trails of light cross the night like sparks leaping from a great bonfire. Lilith sat not far from the cave opening... a greenish light emanated from the crystal in her lap... a light that called to Xandra as if it had a voice.

She knelt at the Ancient's side and observed the tears streaming from the eyes of the older immortal as she gazed heavenward.

"Once..." she whispered, "we were happy once... in the before time." Her shoulders shook and a small cry escaped her mouth. The glow from the crystal faded. Lilith shook her head to and from, then looked at Xandra.

"You have questions this night, child."

"I have heard it said in the village that you are a murderer of children. According to their legends... Lilith steals children and murders them in the night."

"And you wonder if I do this... If when I am gone from this place I steal their children."

Xandra nodded.

The Ancient green-eyed immortal laughed. "It is not so simple a thing to be part of legend. Would you be part of legend Xandra... and if so... what would you have your neighbors say of you?"

"That I was a friend to all and helper of mankind."

Lilith nodded, a small smile playing about her lips. "Perhaps that is what they will say then."

"And of this gift you say I have? What of it?"

"Ahh child... are you so certain you are ready?"

"I am!"

"Then tomorrow... we will begin." The Ancient had covered the crystal with cloth then and placed it in her bag. Then she rose and leaning on her staff a moment she stared once more at the stars. "Have you ever been in love child?"

Xandra shook her head. What she had once felt for the one called Methos could not possibly have been love.

"I hope you have love in your heart someday... It is a sad thing to live without love... but how much sadder to have never known love." Lilith crept back into their small cave then... stretched out on her pallet and soon was in a deep sleep.

***

****

London

Cassandra stirred in her seat as the airplane began its approach into London. "Here," she thought. "It has to be here... Lilith's crystal has to be here." She gazed out into the foggy London skies... wishing she had the ability to reach out with her mind and call the crystal to her. Instead... she would do her own snooping around... She would find this Edward Gray or whatever he called himself these days... she would find him and "convince" him by means of her voice to give her the crystal... The stone of the Ancient would be hers... as it was always meant to be!

Cassandra buckled her seat belt for the descent.


	21. Chapter 20

****

Chapter 20

New York

Derrick was excited by the thought of an airplane ride. The three of them were at JFK to catch their flight to Europe. He gazed through the giant plate glass windows starry-eyed at the thought of being on one of those great silver birds.

His heart fluttered in anticipation as Ellie told him what it would be like. How when the plane gathered speed he would be thrust back in the seat and then feel it rise beneath him. Later his ears would pop from the change of altitude... then the world would look like mounds of whipped cream or cotton candy from above the low clouds. Above would be a sky so blue it would seem impossible. Already she and Phillip had purchased some puzzle books and magazines to occupy their thoughts. Derrick nearly laughed aloud... how could anyone do anything but want to stare out the window at the passing clouds and maybe... glimpses of the far-away ocean beneath them.

When their row was called he took Ellie's hand and quietly... as she had instructed... boarded the plane. As he passed a mirrored surface... he got a brief glimpse of his now-black hair. This morning... Ellie had washed some dye into his hair... and carefully re-cut it. Then she'd tucked her own dark hair up under a blonde wig and hidden her green eyes behind brown contacts... "Just in case..." she'd whispered.

Phillip had allowed her to trim his own hair... but had refused to shave off his entire beard. "It itches when it grows back..." he'd said... So he'd trimmed it to a goatee and then he'd used the same black dye on his hair and beard. Derrick thought he looked rather like a pirate now...

A change of clothing style for all of them... a couple of changes of clothing neatly folded in new bags... and they'd been ready. Ellie's laptop was in her carry-on... along with Derrick's Game-Boy. Ellie's extra wigs and some other things went into a crate Phillip had shipped separately. That big sword had been one of the items Phillip had shipped.

Derrick still had little interest in the thing... He'd rather work on the computer game that he and Adam had been working on before they'd left. But without Adam... Derrick couldn't seem to get anywhere. In his mind... he could still see the shifting patterns... but each time he thought of something... a new move... he seemed to forget it before he could get to the computer. Ellie had promised him that on the long flight... he could work on it... and she'd play with him... even though she didn't seem to have any sense of the game.

They found their seats... Derrick was ecstatic to have a window seat. Ellie was next to him and Phillip was on the aisle. Ellie's brother always seemed to be on guard... as if someone would come for Derrick again, even though both adults had told him that would not happen. As long as Derrick was with them... he was safe.

A few hours into the flight... the boy fell asleep. The steady drone of the plane and the smoothness of the flight... and the monotony of the white cloudscapes outside his window... gradually lulled the excited boy into dreams. And in dreams... the images of a past buried deep within his mind... shifted and pulled. Voices whispered... in languages he did not know. When he woke he glanced at Ellie... seemingly asleep beside him. He touched her hand softly and laced his fingers with hers.

Eleanor started and glanced down at Derrick with a smile.

"I've been on a plane before," the boy said evenly. "I was very small. I sat on a woman's lap. It was like this... "

The boy looked out the window once more. "The ocean was below... and the sky was black as ink... I don't remember stars. I slept some... but the flight was very long." 

Eleanor nodded with wonder. "Then perhaps when we land... we'll see something else... You'll remember other things. We'll take you about the cities of Europe... maybe something will come back to you." She'd argued quietly with Phillip this morning when he indicated they were flying into Paris.

"Why there? Wouldn't Athens or even Rome make more sense?"

"Paris..." Phillip had said. "That's where we need to go." And he'd said nothing else. He'd offered no reasons... no rationale for the sudden change.

In her heart, she understood that Paris might finally open Derrick's memories to the past that was buried even further in his mind. But was she ready for the answers? "_Methos!_" she thought... "_If only you were here!_" Eleanor feared the answers would only be found when the three of them were together. And part of her did not want to find the answers. Her left palm tingled and she rubbed it absently... it was as though her thought of him might be making Methos think of her. Where was he now? Still behind them in Seacouver? In London? In Paris? She had no idea... she hadn't asked... it was probably better not to know... He was with MacLeod... that she knew... and they were searching for answers on their own.

She stroked Derrick's dyed hair and smiled at him softly when he looked over at her. Beside her... Phillip snorted in his light doze. They'd be fine... they had to be fine... even in Paris. After all... despite everything... Derrick was not Darius... even if something of her friend was in him... he was himself... a little boy who needed love and guidance... and a chance to grow up.

***

Paris

David Maillot packed his _epee'_ within its custom case and gathered up his things. This was his last day here this term. Now that Alisaunne would graduate... he doubted he'd continue with his classes here. There really was no reason... no purpose in it... and yet... he had to admit he had enjoyed teaching these girls. Perhaps he would continue... for another year or so... there was no harm in it... no none at all.

He looked up as Alisaunne knocked quietly at the door.

"Aren't you supposed to still be on kitchen duty this week?" he asked her genially. Their class earlier this day had been much the same as the previous one. Today he'd paired the girls by ability... and then paired the winners... Once more... Alisaunne had completely outmatched her classmates. David had been pleased with the girl's progress and abilities.

"Yes, _Monsieur_ Maillot." Alisaunne was dressed once more in her school uniform... except that she had on the burgundy sweater instead of the heavier jacket that the girls usually wore when on outings. She'd shoved the sweater's sleeves up on her arms and looked ill-at-ease... as if something were bothering her. She looked down and fiddled with a ring on her finger and moved one foot back and forth. "I have a question, _Monsieur_..."

"Ask!" David was amused at the girl's sudden shyness. Eighteen she might be... but she still was so young... so innocent.

"I was wondering... when I go to _universite'_ if I... that is... if you... that is... " She suddenly seemed at a loss for words.

David smiled warmly, "Continue with your lessons?"

The girl let out a sigh as she smiled and nodded. "I do enjoy them... and you really meant it the other day when you said that I might be good enough to get on a real team?"

David nodded genially... then glanced up... his breath catching in his throat. Someone was very close. "Perhaps you should get to your duties in the kitchen now... I will discuss this matter with you later..." David's voice trailed off as he realized... the girl might not get a chance to leave before whoever it was made his challenge. David tossed his coat to the floor and pulled out his much stouter "game" rapier... Although deceptively thin... it was titanium over steel and very strong. Besides... he was very skilled... He had fought many times and had emerged victorious over stronger opponents... this would be no different. "Get out of here!" he yelled at Alisaunne just before his opponent was upon him.

***

** **

Somewhere in Italy

Amanda had had enough!

She had packed a few belongings into her small sportscar and given Bella a nice bonus for all her trouble. Then she'd climbed into the car and had taken off at breakneck speed along the winding narrow roads. She had no idea where she was going... only that it would be away from here... away from the empty house and the empty life that she did not want. She'd had enough soul-searching... she'd had enough of being on her own.

Amanda wanted lights... and champagne... and music... wild pulsing rhythms she could dance to with abandon... and she wanted to forget about consciences... and self-improvement... and atoning for a wasted life. She wanted to live again... she wanted to party... she wanted to be who she had been... Rome perhaps... or maybe Vienna... but not Paris... no... not Paris.

Hours later... she crossed the border into France... and wondered why she was doing this to herself. Well... she could go to France... but only so she could go to London... She was not going to Paris. And even if she did go to Paris... she most certainly would not look up MacLeod... or Joe... or Liam... or Methos... or even Nick. No... she would pass through... and they would never know she was there.

She'd put the top down on the small red _Ferrari_ and tied a long scarf about her once more short dark hair. Behind her dark glasses... she smiled... She most certainly was not going to look up old friends... and she laughed... letting the sound of her laughter vanish behind her in the breeze.

It was good to be alive once more!


	22. Chapter 21

****

Chapter 21

Paris

Duncan MacLeod finished mopping the deck of his barge and surveyed it with a critical eye. Since returning to Paris... he'd been a little lax getting everything "ship-shape" about his water-borne home once more... He'd been more interested first in learning something about Darius' runestones... and then the puzzle that evidently was Darius' last student had presented itself.

Alisaunne was at least nearly grown... though Duncan realized that she was likely still too young to survive easily if something happened to her anytime soon. He recalled Michelle Webster and what a handful she had been! Even Amanda had finally thrown up her hands and put the girl in college in Switzerland... Amanda! Thoughts of Amanda made him pause. Since she had left Paris several years ago... Duncan had heard nothing from her... not even a postcard... the kind she often sent. "Having a wonderful time... Wish you were here!"

A small gray _Citroen _pulled onto the _quai_ and stopped near the gangplank.

Even from here... Duncan could feel the slight hum of a pre-immortal so he was not at all surprised to see Alisaunne exit the car. But what did surprise him was her disheveled state... and the expression of stark terror on her pale face.

Duncan dropped the mop as he raced down the gangplank. He noticed an unfamiliar woman get out of the car.

"Alisaunne?" Duncan called even as he reached the teenage girl who was already shaking and unable to get much out. "What is it... slow down..." Duncan glanced at the driver. "Where did you find her?"

The woman said something in French, gestured rudely, and then got back in her car and drove off.

Softly Duncan moved the fallen locks of straight dark hair out of Alisaunne's eyes and then put his arms about her. She was terrified! Even a blind man could see it. "Whatever's happened... you can tell me..."

"He... he... he... he... killed _Monsieur_ Maillot! He cut off his head!" Alisaunne's knees buckled and she would have collapsed if Duncan had not supported her. Her voice was both scream and whisper... filled with terror and disbelief.

"Come inside!" Duncan led her into the barge and sat her down on the sofa. He poured her a glass of water and handed it to her... carefully putting his hands over hers. He made certain he had eye contact with her and then he smiled. "Tell me what happened." he offered softly.

Alisaunne sipped the water and continued to shake. Duncan sat beside her... slowly rubbing her back in sympathy.

"Whatever happened... I'll believe you Alisaunne... but you have to tell me what happened. Who is _Monsieur_ Maillot?"

"My fencing instructor at _Sacre' Coeur_. We were talking... he's very nice... He's been teaching classes there for several years."

Fencing? Perhaps Maillot was someone meant to keep an eye on the girl. "He was teaching you?"

The girl nodded. "He said I could fence on _universite'_ level... He knew someone and was going to talk to them."

"So what happened..." Duncan prompted.

"A man... broke into the classroom... They fenced... no... they _fought_... it wasn't like fencing. Then the man killed _Monsieur_ Maillot..." The girl's voice drifted off and she began to shake uncontrollably. Her voice rose once more in terror and disbelief. "He... cut off his head!" She dropped the glass and began to wail... burying her face in Duncan's chest.

He waited... he had to ask... and he hated himself for doing so... "What happened next Alisaunne. What did you see next?"

"I don't know! It doesn't make sense! There was lightning as if a storm had burst out within the classroom! I ran! _Monsieur_ Maillot told me to run... just before he died!"

So... she had witnessed a quickening. Duncan held the sobbing girl, curious as to why she had come to him. What had made her cross Paris to find him and tell him? He had a thousand questions... and no answers were forthcoming... Duncan started.

"_Not now!_" He could feel the presence of another immortal coming aboard. Methos had finally prepared the papers and a reasonable back-story to interview Alisaunne's _avocat'_ and had left barely an hour ago... Duncan knew he'd be busy for the next few hours. Every instinct told him to grab his _katana._.. but if it wasn't necessary... what further damage might be done to the terrified girl... on the other hand... if someone had followed her.

Duncan swiftly rose and pulled the _katana_ from its display. A strangled gasp came from the girl as she saw what was in his hand.

"Who's there?" he called out.

"It's just me Highlander..." Methos said as he entered the barge. "Something happened..." his voice fell away as he saw Alisaunne. He met Duncan's eyes and said nothing further. Duncan lowered his blade and turned to Alisaunne whose eyes were focused on the _katana_ in terror. She began screaming! When he tried to reassure her she backed away... still screaming.

"Put it away MacLeod" Methos said sharply as he positioned himself between Duncan and the girl. She closed her eyes and wavered... Methos caught her as she passed out... picked her up and carried her to MacLeod's bed. "Get some damp cloths... "

He took her pulse and listened to her breathing while Duncan replaced his _katana_ in the display and ran warm water over some towels.

"She all right?"

"Shock!" Methos wiped her face and laid a towel across her forehead... then pulled a blanket up around Alisaunne to keep her warm. Even unconscious she was shivering.

"She saw a... _beheading_... at the school. " Duuncan murmured to Methos' nod. "When I... _heard_... you... I thought the... _killer_... had followed her" Duncan emphasized his choice of words... in case the girl was aware enough of what he might say. "Why are you back so soon?" 

Methos motioned Duncan to the far side of the room. "When I arrived for my appointment at the _avocat's_... the police were there," he whispered.

Duncan nodded in understanding, "How bad?"

"The lawyer... his secretary... and two law clerks... Sliced and diced. His records had been ransacked. I got out of there before anyone got too curious about me and began to ask who I was and why I was there."

"Mortal?" Duncan asked.

Methos nodded. "No heads... no aftermath. I'd guess he was attempting to locate the girl. Who did he get at the school?"

"A fencing teacher... Maillot." 

Methos let out a ragged breath, "That would be David Maillot. I never met him... but from Watcher records... he was good... _very good_." Methos crossed his arms over his chest and considered the unconscious girl. "What brought her here... did she say?"

Duncan shook his head... "She wasn't making a great deal of sense." He picked up the phone and checked the directory for the school's number. "Keep an eye on her," he said as he climbed up onto the deck to talk to someone at the school.

Methos sat once more on the edge of the bed and again took Alisaunne's pulse. It was steady... already she seemed to be calming down some. He removed the damp towel from her forehead and laid it to one side. Carefully he felt her face and smiled... Her body temperature was slowly returning to normal... The shivering had lessened. Even her labored breathing was now deep and even.

Duncan came storming back in and paced the floor a moment... glancing at the girl. "I couldn't talk to anyone there. Whoever I was talking to took my name and I got the feeling they weren't going to give Mother Magdelena the message that I'd called."

"Your name?... Did you tell them about the girl?"

"No... " Duncan froze. "I got the feeling it may have been police..." he strode across the room, flinging open the cabinet where he kept the small television. Turning it on he flicked through stations until one with a news bulletin came up.

"... Once again... there appears to have been some sort of electrical storm at the _Academie de Sacre Coeur_ here in Paris. While police have not yet released a statement... we believe that there has been at least one murder and perhaps more."

'Louise..." said the anchor as the camera split the screen, "Is it true that a sword was involved?"

The reporter continued. "Nothing has been confirmed beyond the sighting of the storm... the calling of the police... and the general word that there were bodies... I repeat bodies... plural... in the building."

"We were curious if the events here have anything to do with the ones at the office of Guillame Clermont this morning? We understand a sword or other sharp weapon may have been used on the four people apparently killed there."

"Speculation is running rampant... but so far..." Duncan switched off the television as Alisaunne moaned in the background. The last thing the girl needed to hear about was more than the one killing she had apparently witnessed. His eyes met Methos'. They needed to get the girl out of here and to safety.

The elder immortal gathered the girl, still wrapped in the blanket, into his arms and followed Duncan to his car. Quickly Methos put the girl into the front seat and buckled her in as Duncan got into the driver's side. "Aren't you coming?" Duncan asked.

"I'll keep an eye on things here. Drive east... toward Switzerland. Call me when you get out of Paris. I may know of a place to take her... one safe from our kind." He slammed the door and watched as MacLeod drove off. Methos pointedly looked around... seeking a Watcher... Finding one he crossed to the wall to tell the man that MacLeod was headed to the nearest hospital with the girl and why. They likely knew where she had come from... no sense in misleading them about that. After the Watcher made a call and headed off... Methos smiled. He'd need to vanish, too... at least for a while. Thoughtfully he returned to the barge and gathered his laptop, the runestones, as well as any documents or other items that might lead anyone to know what they had been working on. Things were getting a little more complicated than even he had anticipated. He stared through the porthole until he located the Watcher still on him... Nodding to himself, Methos realized he knew the man. The world's oldest living immortal smiled and planned his disappearance.


	23. Entr'acte One

****

Inter'acte

__

San Francisco, Summer 1906

Methos was not certain what had awakened him. Was it the dreams once more? Those strange dreams that had tickled at the edge of his consciousness for over a year now.

At first... it had all seemed so perfect. He'd met up with Phillip and Eleanor in Houston in late 1882 after losing the trail of Kronos and while Phillip had moved south... to travel down the length of the Americas... he and Eleanor had chosen west... Oregon... Washington... California.

He'd lost the chance to contain Kronos somewhere... but at least Kronos had also lost track of him... Thus Methos had decided to let it be... Another day... another year... another time... he'd have to face the ghosts of his past... but not now... Not when Eleanor seemed finally ready to be something other than a friend and occasional companion. Not when she had seemed ready to try living together once more as a married couple and not just as an occasional lover.

"Let's see how it goes," she'd said with that sad little smile he knew so well. "No promises." But they'd had twenty -four years... sixteen more than they'd had together that first time... so long ago. Methos had actually begun to think it would work. But then last year, the dreams and the nightmares had started.

The more often he traced on her the remembered symbols of his childhood...lightly as he had always done since the first time he'd ever made love to her... the more she had done the same to him... and the closer they had come. For centuries they had been able to finish each other's sentences... read in movements each other's intentions... but now... it was almost as if their thoughts and dreams were becoming shared visions.

At first had come the shared understanding that merely tracing the symbols with their fingers was not enough... something more permanent was needed. Something buried deep within each of them yearned for that permanence. But they'd each hesitated... Methos was not certain he wanted to totally commit for all time to anyone... and Eleanor seemed also to have reservations. And at some point... Methos had begun having dreams of a sad-faced woman who wished to prevent his doing anything further.

They'd traveled up and down the Pacific Coast over the past two and a half decades, living for a time in one community and then another. About eight years ago, Methos had bought a home in San Francisco and they had settled into a life on Knob Hill... a reticent and eccentric, childless couple... given to few social occasions... wealthy... mysterious... and generous. The story was circulated that he'd made good in gold and silver mining. Eleanor was known to frequent hospitals and orphanages and give generous donations to charity. He was known as a benevolent philanthropist and a shrewd judge of character. People who truly needed help could approach him... con men... never got past the front door.

But in this last year... Eleanor had begun to change.

At first he'd thought it was her precarious mental balance. The storms of that massive quickening she had taken were still sometimes a part of her. Her green eyes would flash a little greener and her right hand would reach to kill anyone who came too near her... mortal or immortal. It had happened less and less over the decades... but it was still a part of her. He'd taught her every meditation technique he knew... used every philosophy with her he'd ever learned. Each would work for a time... and then something within her would snap... attempting to be free once more... a darkness and a horror she could not control.

"I don't remember anything when I'm like that... when Kae Dhun rages... I do know he wants me to kill someone..." She'd smile at him, a hint of the teasing imp present in that expression. "Not you... he does not know you." Then sadness would overcome her and she'd curl up somewhere wistfully. A few hours later... she was fine. But each time it happened... she drew further and further away.

And Methos did not know why.

At one point... hoping it would help... he'd encouraged her to take another quickening... perhaps that would help end the other's power over her. But it hadn't... it had simply exacerbated the problem... making it far worse. In the aftermath... he'd held her, listening to her raging voice and screams as she sought to be free to continue her rampage. Eventually... that rage had passed, but there was now a fragility about Eleanor that worried Methos.

Now... he reached out in the bed for her... even as he knew she was not there. He saw her curled in the window seat... staring at the night sky.

"I need to go home Methos... to Paris." She'd said it so quietly he almost hadn't heard her.

"_Paris!_" he thought bitterly... "_Why does she always think of Paris as home?_" Aloud he answered agreeably, "Whatever you want... I can look into arrangements tomorrow. It's time we were moving on from here anyway."

"Not us... just me."

"Of course us..." His clipped tone betrayed his rising anger.

"If we stay together... we'll have to take that next step... Are you ready for that?"

He sighed deeply as he stared at the ornate ceiling. "You know I'm not... It's not you... it's me... Commitment is just not a word I've ever really considered a part of my vocabulary. For us... we're not talking a few decades... we are talking about centuries... possibly longer. I have severe reservations about either of our abilities to handle something that permanent."

"Then it's time for me to go." 

"Come to bed," he finally pleaded... holding up the blanket to motion her back in.

She came... they made love. But come morning... Eleanor packed her bags and left. "Do you even love me? Have you ever loved anyone?" she asked him, tears brimming in her eyes. 

Methos said nothing. The only time he'd ever told how he truly felt... death had taken them both. Even now... it seemed better not to say it... better to let her go. Perhaps they'd make it together... another time.

Yet even apart... the dreams had continued. There was the next step that needed to be performed for either of them to find true peace. At the same time... the sad-faced woman of his visions shook her head... _not yet_... she seemed to warn him... _not yet... not yet_.

So Methos let her go, and it was nearly a hundred years before he was ready for that next step.


	24. Part Two: Dreams and Visions Chapter 22

****

Author's Note: This second movement contains lots of flashbacks. I sincerely hope that the flashback story will not confuse the casual reader... and will make sense. Thanks for all the feedback. I love hearing from all of you and hope you continue to respond and critique. Without feedback... no writer can improve or know if their writing is read and appreciated. ~_thanks, elle-nora'_

****

Part Two: Dreams and Visions

Embedded in your body deep

Lie answers to the questions

Like a garden hidden from the keep

How long I've waited

~from _Dead End Moon_ by Kevin Max

Chapter 22

Paris

Derrick plastered his face to the taxi window. Paris was a feast for the eyes. He could not recall ever seeing such a place! Not even New York had held the fascination for him that this ancient city seemed to. "Can we go sight-seeing?" he asked.

"We'll see..." Eleanor's eyes met the back of Phillip's head. She was still trying to figure out why he'd thought Paris was the best place for them to land in. She would have preferred anyplace else. But Phillip... sitting beside the driver in the front seat... said nothing.

Derrick's infectious enthusiasm continued. "I want to see everything!" Eleanor sighed and managed a smile.

Their flight had been uneventful and they'd had no problems clearing customs... or in reacquiring their precious weapons from cargo. Now their taxi was weaving through the early morning streets of Paris on its way to their hotel. So far... they'd not even sensed another immortal or seen a Watcher. Still... this was not a safe place for them... and no one knew that better than Eleanor. The emptiness of Paris still haunted her.

The driver pulled to a stop outside the _Hotel de Montcalm_... an older and very exclusive five star accommodation on the _Rue St. Dominique_. As Phillip paid the driver and motioned for an attendant to collect their luggage... Eleanor's eyes automatically scanned for cameras and security guards. Once satisfied as to their location... she shook the hair of the wig over her face and pulled Derrick's ball-cap over his eyes. "Be quiet now... remember last time," she whispered. Since leaving Seacouver... they'd stayed out of the better hotels... because of security systems... Eleanor was still wondering what this was about.

She and Derrick stood back out of the way while Phillip was at the front desk. Soon he had their keys and motioned for them and the bellcap to follow. He said nothing in the elevator... nor did they. As they approached the entrance to the suite... Eleanor paused slightly... there was someone here.

"Phillip...?" she began as he opened the door and stood back to allow the bellcap to enter with their things... He winked at her.

Eleanor cautiously entered the darkened suite and glanced around. No one in sight. Behind her Phillip tipped the bellcap then closed the door. Then... from the shadows stepped Methos. She let out a great sigh, smiled and walked slowly toward him, her hands clasped behind her back.

"I should have known." 

Methos leaned down to kiss her murmuring, "I believe we have unfinished business." Methos likewise held his hands behind his back.

"Adam!" cried Derrick starting eagerly toward them. He felt Phillip's restraining hand on his shoulder.

"Lad... let's you and I go sight-seeing!" Phillip chuckled. "Those two have some grown-up stuff to do right now. See you two later." Phillip winked as he maneuvered Derrick out the door of the suite and down the hall. First the two would have breakfast downstairs... then they'd see the sights. Methos' email had told Phillip he'd have to keep Derrick occupied at least until evening.

***

Within the darkened suite... the heavy drapes pulled against the growing daylight... Eleanor's breath caught in her throat as she returned Methos' kiss.

"Surprised?"

"Mmm..." she murmured.

"Can't read my mind, yet?" His teasing tone only served to arouse her further.

"No... can you read mine?"

"Right now?" Methos winked. Then he lifted one hand and slowly pulled the blonde wig from her head, tossing it onto a nearby chair. With his fingers... he pulled loose one lock of her black hair until it lay softly against her face. Then he ran his fingers down the side of her face and back and forth across her neck... stopping at the small notch at the base of her throat. His smile widened as his hand continued downward to the top button of her blouse. He unbuttoned it. "I missed you!"

Eleanor suddenly stepped back... He could see tears sparkling in her eyes. She bit her lip.

"Second thoughts?" he asked... hesitating.

She smiled at him... the sad smile he'd seen so often. "No... no second thoughts." She raised her arms to his face and held it between both her hands. "I love you... I always have!"

With that... he swept her tiny frame up into his arms... and into the adjoining bedroom. Time for explanations later... right now... he had other things on his mind.

***

****

London

Nathan Barlow sat up in his chair. His eyes scanned once more the obscure passage that held a clue as to the reality of the so-called Lord Edward Gray, and his holdings. Quickly he wrote down the location of the Gray manor as it had been in the fifteenth century. He'd have to transfer the information on that location to a modern map... but maybe... just maybe... his perseverance was paying off.

Barlow grinned. If he played his cards right... perhaps he'd earn more than just his fee from the Lady Cassandra. Perhaps he'd earn her gratitude. He licked his lips at the thought of her. The thought of possessing her even once had made him lend his talents to this search of hers. For eight years he had been working on this problem... now... finally... his work was showing results. Surely she would be grateful.

But... first things first. He had to locate just where this manor house had once stood... and then determine if it were still there. Then... perhaps he'd do a little personal recognizance. If _he_ had this crystal Cassandra so desperately wanted in _his_ possession... what would she offer to get it.

Swiftly Barlow closed the ledger of deliveries and rose to find a period map of London.

***

Cassandra's eyes observed the passing scenery of London. She had no idea what she was searching for... or how she would know it when she found it. She had simply told her driver to drive... all about London... she wanted to see the sights.

After landing yesterday... she'd checked into a hotel and let her hair flow freely once more on her shoulders. She'd studied a directory... and made notations of anyone named Gray or Grey or some form of the name... such as Greymoor or Grayson... and had begun checking for immortal presences at the location of their homes. So far nothing. If Edward Gray had been an immortal... he must now be using a completely different name. Cassandra decided to expand her search for anyone with the surname Edwards. If this didn't work, she'd give Barlow a call tomorrow and see if he'd learned anything new in his research.

Barlow... she'd found him almost one hundred years ago... newly immortal... newly lost... a librarian with no concept of the immortal life that lay before him. He would never be a great swordsman... but he had passion. She'd encouraged him to explore what his immortality offered... and had used her own sexuality to keep him interested in her... always holding out the possibility of something more... but never quite delivering.

Cassandra did not know how much longer she could keep this game up. Already she could see he was becoming desperate in his need to please her. Soon... she'd have to take his head... or let him have her... at least once. But she'd try to drag this out as much as she could... he was a good researcher... and an excellent tool. But as with all tools... Cassandra knew... their time passes... and they have no more use.

"'Round the square again, miss?" the cabbie asked, eyeing his passenger appreciatively in his rear view mirror.

Cassandra met his gaze and smiled seductively, "Once more, if you please." She pitched her voice to achieve the effect she wanted. The cabbie nodded and continued his slow drive about the north London neighborhood.


	25. Chapter 23

****

Chapter 23

__

Within the Standing Stones, in the "before" time

"Kritis!" Ga'el, seer of the people, healer of the others, called to the boy she'd named her son... her firstborn... the first of the foundlings left to this tribe of the people by the gods. "Watch Aja..." Ga'el motioned the small one toward her "brother" and watched as the boy looked up from his stick construction to grin at the child. He pulled her onto his lap and sat explaining his building project to her. Nearby... Havron... his friend... skipped stones on the ocean's surface... his eyes ever watching the horizon and the great birds winging their flight through the air.

Ga'el watched them a few moments longer...making certain that the girl-child was being watched and not ignored... then climbed the hill above the stones to gather the herbs and plants she used to heal the others. While the people needed no healing... they who were undying... the others did. They were fragile creatures... and under the protection of the people. So it was... so it had always been for as far back as Ga'el could remember.

And then the small ones began appearing. The little ones... so like the people who never had children... so tiny... as if they were there to increase the numbers of a people who had never needed to be increased but who simply were. They grew... and changed... unlike the people... They were more like the children of the others. Yet within them... Ga'el had begun to sense the potential that lived in all of the people... the potential for long life... the potential to be unchanged... undying. These small ones were to be protected... they were to be cherished... This she somehow knew... the great stone had spoken to her in dreams.

Ga'el set her willow basket on the grass and began to gather her herbs and plants. Soon she was humming the old tunes... in the old languages... the ones the others did not know. She could still hear the voices of the small ones... raised in play... and her thoughts drifted.

***

Aja was bored with her brother's play. He was forever building things... making things. The little one... already taller than the children of the others who were her age... rose and wandered down to the shore to watch her brother's friend toss stones across the water.

She clasped her small hands behind her back and bit her lip. The older boy skipped another stone and watched with satisfaction as it took three hops across the waves before falling victim to the pull of the ocean. "Yes!" he leaped into the air with a grin. "See first daughter... three hops... I made it take three hops!" The little girl grinned and twisted back and forth... her green eyes almost seeming to sparkle in the morning light. Havron, the dreamer laughed, then grabbed her hands and began to dance at the edge of the surf... Back and forth they moved about through the waves.

Soon... as if jealous of the attention his "sister" was paying to his friend... Kritis joined them with a hearty laugh in a faster and more involved version of the dance. Eventually the boys lay exhausted on the sand breathing heavily... content in their friendly rivalry of the small one. Unseen... Aja wandered off in the direction of the standing stones. She'd heard something... a cry.

Crouching down beside the baby... Aja looked in wonder at the small one. Her necklace of shells dangled above the small one's eyes and caught the baby's attention. The cries turned to a cackle and a laugh. Aja grinned and poked at the small one... then sat and gathered the little one onto her own lap.

"What's that?" said Havron coming up behind her.

Aja grinned up at him.

"Did one of the others lose a baby?" the boy continued.

Aja shook her head.

Kritis... following his younger friend into the stones saw the baby in Aja's arms. Hurriedly he turned, running to the edge of the stones. "Ga'el!" he yelled. "Come!"

Ga'el brushed the untamed mane of fire-colored hair from her brows and glanced at the small ones among the stones. Her eyes widened in surprise as she realized another small one had come to them. Swiftly she ran down the hillside.

Within the stones she crouched beside first daughter and touched the new small one in wonder. Her long fingers brushed over the new one's brow and she felt the pattern for compassion, the understanding soul, she who would nurture. Ga'el grinned as she collected the small one from Aja and stood up... cradling the baby in her arms.

"Kritis... collect my basket from the hillside." Gael clasped Aja's hand as she headed back to the encampment. Along the way they passed several of the others.

"We have a baby!" laughed Aja.

"Hush, first daughter, our ways are not their ways. Speak not to them of our secrets." Aja looked down crestfallen.

Ga'el paused at the carrock of Evania and Palsin... the latest of the people to unite. Evania brushed aside the beads over the doorway and gasped at Ga'el. "For me?"

Ga'el nodded. "The gods have blessed your union. Take now Sofaer... who brings compassion in her laugh." Ga'el handed over the small one and headed back to her own carrock. Along the way... she passed Morannon.

The judge smiled and bowed. "Word of a new one has reached me. We are blessed." He was carefully discreet. 

Gael too looked at the dirt... at the sky... at the others walking by... anywhere but at him. She feared she would betray herself... and the feelings that even now grew in her whenever Morannon was near.

Aja stared quietly at the two old ones and wondered why they seemed so strange with one another. She had never seen her "mother" look away from anyone before. Further down the path... Aja heard her "father" approach. Releasing Ga'el's hand... Aja went plummeting toward D'jann... eager to tell him how she'd found a small one. Her father lifted her high into the sky and laughed. He set her upon his shoulders and joined Gael and Morannon. "We are blessed this day! The gods favor us! Our numbers grow!" He put one arm about she who was his mate and the small family headed to their home.

Behind them on the road... Morannon watched them go... and could not hide the sorrow that grew in his heart.

**********

****

Paris

Nick Wolfe feinted to the left and swung his _katana_ to the right... then drew back... shifting the blade over his head. "I thought you said you were rusty?" he asked Marie-France.

"I am..." the immortal laughed lightly, then turned... twisting her small curved blade about in her hand. She clasped both hands on the handle and settled once more in to a waiting stance.

"For a nun... you know how to wield that thing pretty well."

"Oh... I've learned over the years... but I seldom need to carry it anymore... and I've never really had to use it... at least not in centuries." Marie-France found herself rather enjoying the sparring match with the young immortal.

"_Bravo_... Nick!" cheered Val from the floor. "Don't let her get past you!" she cried out... clapping her hands together. Nick almost glanced over at the little girl... then thought better of it. Maillot had told him to be wary of distractions and to keep his eye on his opponent.

Marie-France circled with a smile and then lunged. Nick deflected her blow... turned and brought his _katana_ down on her blade. Steel crackled against steel and sparks flew. Marie-France gasped as Nick managed to wrest her blade from her hands.

"Told you I was rusty!" she said with shrug while backing carefully away. "It's been a few hundred years since I last met an opponent in combat."

Nick tossed her sword back to her, "Want another go?"

"Perhaps later. I rather think Valeraine would enjoy the opportunity to show you what she can do." She backed further away and bowed slightly. Her eyes met his. For a moment he almost forgot she was a nun. Then... remembering... he turned his glance to the child immortal.

"You're less than half my height... how do you think you'd fight me?" Nick said to the girl.

"Oh... not straight on, of course, I'd have to be a little tricky."

"You'd cheat?"

Val shrugged, "Of course. That's why I usually avoid fights with ones your size... but I do enjoy the practice." She launched herself suddenly from the floor, leaping into the air... twisting her body as she turned and kicked at his face as she came down. Nick backed away... shaking his head to clear it... and looked up as her small blade descended to within an inch of his neck. She pulled it back with a laugh... "Of course... that only works on someone once... but once is all I generally need."

Nick rubbed his neck. "I can well believe it. And Kenny... what's his trick?"

"Ohh... he gets you to trust him... want to protect him... then he gets behind you and..." she grinned, "that is usually that. He knows lots of tricks... so be wary of him. He cheats, too." Val sauntered around him teasingly.

Nick turned... carefully following her movements. "I'll have to remember that," he said softly. Despite his misgivings... Nick found he was growing fond of the child immortal... But trust her? Even Nick knew better than that.

He dropped his guard carefully and flexed the _katana_ in his hand. "How about a late lunch?"

Nick was uncertain exactly how it was, that the two women had convinced him to spar with them after breakfast. But he'd found himself almost eager for the session. Liam Riley was not one for sparring... and while David Maillot would... Nick was not exactly on the best of terms with his former teacher. The man had wanted him to be more disciplined... more dedicated. Nick just wanted to know how to defend himself and do what could not be avoided. The session with the women was a way to lash out at his own confused feelings about Amanda... get some practice against new opponents... and not really be worried about his head.

At Val's insistence... Nick carried his _katan_a with him to lunch at the sidewalk cafe just up the _Rue de Loire_ from his rooms. Over his menu... Nick realized what a trio the three of them must seem to make. The ex-cop... the nun, albeit dressed in modern clothes... and the little girl with blonde braids who was most definitely not a little girl.

Nick shifted in his chair uncomfortably, trying to be certain his blade was not visible. It was the main reason he hated carrying it unless he needed it. He was just too uncomfortable with it most of the time. The women, however, seemed to be entirely at ease with theirs. Well... they were both over eight hundred years old.

"So... tell me how you two became friends?" he finally ventured after they'd ordered. "You both are so different from one another."

"To survive in our world... we make alliances," said Marie-France. "We know one another's strengths. We know one another's weaknesses. While we must each face combat alone... we do not have to be alone."

"The school allows us to live as a unit... It's on holy ground. We learn from one another. We teach one another. We maintain a fiction to the outer world that we are like any other convent-run school... but we know the truth." Val shrugged as if it made perfect sense to her.

"And this Kenny? Why was he there?" Nick asked... sipping his water.

"Kenny..." Marie-France sat back in her chair with a shake of her head. "Kenny is a child. I promised the older ones... when I agreed to run the school and look after the little ones... that all children would be welcome there. Even they are aware of his menace... But as long as he abides by our rules he is... if not welcome... at least safe with us."

"But out here," Val interjected leaning forward with a grin, "He's fair game... for any of us."

Nick's attention was suddenly focused on the headline of a newspaper being read by a passing pedestrian. "Uh oh... " Nick rose and pulled the paper from the man's hands. Nick swallowed hard as he turned... ignoring the man's stream of profanity. Silently he handed the newspaper to Marie-France. "Someone's playing the game in the open."


	26. Chapter 24

****

Chapter 24

Ste. Genevieve

Duncan MacLeod gave Alisaunne de Pres a brief smile and a wink as he turned off the ignition. The girl still looked absolutely terrified, as she watched his every move. At least she seemed to have calmed down some. They'd driven yesterday evening and through the night.

Duncan had called Methos once they'd left Paris behind and had been given directions and some names. Once Alisaunne had re-gained consciousness... he'd concentrated on easing her mind.

"But the sword?" The girl could not seem to move beyond his having a sword.

Duncan had shrugged, "I'm an antique dealer... or I was... I heard someone come on to the barge and just grabbed the first thing at hand." He'd smiled... but the suspicion in the girl's eyes had continued.

"So where are we going?"

"My friend thinks you may be in danger since you saw the attacker... he thought it best to I get you away to safety."

"Why not the police?"

Duncan had sighed... "_What is it about kids and their questions?_" he thought. Aloud he commented, "My friend will talk to them I'm sure... Meanwhile..." They'd stopped soon after for food and gas. Alisaunne had remained at the car while he went inside. On the small television above the counter was information about the killings at the school. Duncan was glad she'd remained outside. He really didn't want to be the one to have to tell her the entire story. Swiftly he'd bought sandwiches and cold drinks, taken them out to her and driven off.

Now... looking at the small and relatively open "convent" Methos had mentioned... Duncan wondered if this were a good idea. Still... he needed to leave her behind somewhere relatively safe so he could return to Paris and take care of this unknown immortal who had so openly exposed their game to the mortal world. 

"Wait here," Duncan said as he exited the car. Already he could sense the presence of numerous immortals.

He waited patiently while a boy... immortal and about seventeen... with a shock of white hair above suspicious cornflower blue eyes approached.

"I'm Duncan MacLeod... I was told to ask for Sister Marie-France."

The boy looked over Duncan's shoulder towards the car. "We don't allow them here." His voice betrayed a lilting Welsh accent.

Duncan waited... there was no sense saying anything more until he'd met with Marie-France. Methos had told him to explain things only to her.

The boy eyed Duncan up and down with great suspicion. Finally, almost reluctantly he offered, "Marie-France is not here."

Letting out a long breath... Duncan looked around. He could see several nuns... all mortal watching him... and not far away... a group of five immortal children... all physically younger than this boy. "Is there someone older I might speak with?"

The boy grinned. "Well... there's older and then there's older. If you mean an adult one of us... " The boy turned and whistled sharply, then called out to one of the sisters to fetch someone. The nun nodded with a wave and headed into the main building, emerging a few moments later with an elderly nun, who used a cane as she moved slowly across the courtyard.

Behind him, Duncan heard a car door open and knew Alisaunne had grown impatient with the waiting. She slammed the door and came around to stand beside him.

The boy stared for a moment and then grinned at her, "Hi... I'm Ian Daffyd." For the first time since she'd appeared at the barge... Alisaunne smiled. The boy held out his hand, "Come I'll introduce you while your friend talks to Sister Luke." He shot Duncan a knowing glance as he led the girl away.

Duncan watched them go. As she met the children... Alisaunne was surrounded by them. A small child immortal who couldn't have been more than three or four physically seemed to especially entrance the teen-ager. She crouched down beside the child to comment on the large stuffed rabbit the girl clutched.

"It is forbidden to take ones like her in... the ones who have not yet died the first time. She cannot stay here. Her kind always bring the others... the ones who hunt."

Duncan focused his attention on the elderly woman. Even beneath the wimple she wore, Duncan could tell her hair was white. How old had she been when she'd died? "I have no choice Sister. Please..."

"Around here they call me Sister Luke... " she interrupted. "I was Lucia Cortez before my death some thirty years ago." The elderly woman smiled with a slight chuckle. "A friend brought me here as my survival in the world was seriously in doubt." She studied Duncan's reaction, then asked, "Now then... who are you... and more importantly... how did you find this place?" Her Spanish-accented French sounded almost musical.

"The doctor sent me," said Duncan using the phrase Methos had given him. 

"_I've used many names MacLeod... but most will recognize the term 'the doctor.' That's the best one to use. No one there knows who I am. No one!_"

Sister Luke's eyes widened. "Ahh... the doctor..." She glanced at Alisaunne. "He feels she must be here then?" She motioned for him to accompany her in a walk about the nearby garden. "The doctor is one of those who set the rules for this place long ago. He and Marie-France, who is normally in charge here, are old friends. For him to break those rules... something must be up. Walk with me."

As they did so... Duncan briefly explained what had happened in Paris. He refrained from mentioning how he and Methos had come to know the girl... nor anything about Darius' connection with her... that seemed for the best... at least until he knew more.

Luke nodded. "Still... you must understand... This place is a refuge only for us and only from our own kind. The girl might not be safe here. Besides... you know it is not wise for her kind to know too much about us. If she is here... she may well see and notice things she should have no knowledge of."

Duncan nodded both his understanding and his agreement with her words. It would be better if Alisaunne did not learn too much about the immortal world. Yet where else could he leave her in safety? An immortal needed to watch over her in case the killer in Paris was still searching for her. "So where is this Marie-France I was supposed to talk to."

"An errand. Obviously she should have been back by now. I am relatively young for an immortal... Even the children are older than I am. And most are far more capable than I will ever be of protecting themselves."

"Who's the eldest one here?"

"You mean the eldest immortal?"

Duncan nodded.

"Well... he's not really capable of being in charge around here... but... if it will set your mind at ease... perhaps you should meet him."

Sister Luke led Duncan further into the garden among some trees. Duncan could feel someone there... someone old... someone powerful. The Highlander chuckled slightly when he saw the great bear-man he knew as Ursa. "So here you are Ursa... I wondered where you'd vanished to."

The huge man with the mind of a child looked at Duncan with a beatific smile and held up a handful of flowers he was gathering. "Mac... Leod..." he said in recognition. Then he slowly moved to another spot to gather more. Duncan could hear Ursa humming as he worked.

"He was brought here about ten years ago... In some ways... he is our protector... as we are his."

"He was in a monastery last I saw him."

"Yes... I think both the doctor and Brother Darius thought he might serve a greater purpose here with us." Sister Luke hid her hands within her habit. "We are the lost ones _Senor_ MacLeod... the ones who cannot exist in the outer world without assistance. We are here on holy ground... not so much to cower... but to have a chance to live."

Duncan nodded. "I really do need to leave the girl here for a while. Either the doctor or I will come for her soon."

The sound of children's laughter behind them caused them both to turn. Alisaunne had entered into some game with the children.

Sister Luke chuckled, "Personally, I do not think her remaining here for long is a very good idea. But it seems I may be outvoted. I think Ian and the other children have already made her welcome. At present... Ian is the oldest of the little ones."

"At present?"

"Others come and go... They want to see the world. They want to explore. They want to enter the game. Most... never return to us." Sister Luke gazed sadly off into the distance, obviously thinking of children who were lost forever. "We know we are all likely doomed. If there can be only one... we know it will not be any of us. All we can do... is make the most of the lives we have."

"That's all any of us can do Sister... any of us," agreed Duncan soberly. He smiled slightly at Ursa who was once more gathering wildflowers. Duncan would have a talk with him. If anyone could protect the girl... Ursa could... even if he had no clear idea why. That way, Duncan would be free to return to Paris. With Methos' help... the two of them should be able to find this immortal and deal with him.


	27. Chapter 25

****

Chapter 25

Paris

Upon reading about the killings at the school the day before, Nick Wolfe had hurriedly paid the check and led the way back to his apartment. Learning that David Maillot had apparently died worried him. Maillot had been good, but it was the deaths of the five mortals at the school and the deaths of four others at a lawyer's office earlier in the day that had most upset Nick.

Any immortal knew that he or she might be challenged and die at any time. It was the way of the game both Amanda and Liam had explained to him early on... before he'd known he was one of them. Maillot had likely met his death courageously... facing his opponent with the _savoir faire_ with which he'd faced his life. For him... Nick grieved... but did not mourn. The Frenchman had died as he had lived... and the game went on.

Marie-France looked troubled. It was evident she wanted to gather Valeraine up and leave Paris. But the tiny blonde immortal was simmering with a hatred that Nick found off-putting.

"I will find this immortal! Maybe I was wrong about Kenny! Maybe it was this one! I won't go until I have justice for Rosalie!" she hissed with an anger Nick had not seen in her before. Then she stamped her foot, as would a child throwing a temper tantrum. Nick smiled.

"Let me check with Burt... and his contacts... maybe I can learn something. Meanwhile, you two stay here."

"But _I_ want to hunt!" hissed Valeraine.

"Not now Val," Nick said calmly, "Not right now. When I get back... We'll see when I get back. Maillot was my friend... I want to know what happened to him as much as you want to know what happened to Rosalie. Give me time to check things out."

Val collapsed onto the sofa pouting... but she stopped trying to convince him to take her along. Nick head for the door.

"Nick!" He turned at the sound of Marie-France's soft voice. "Please be careful." Nick saw a warm smile on the young woman's face... a smile that made him forget for a moment that she was eight hundred years older than he was... and... that she was a nun.

He nodded his head. "I will ladies... I will." With that he was out the door and off to _Sanctuary_.

***

****

Ste. Genevieve

Duncan bid his farewells to Alisaunne, promising he'd be back for her as soon as it was safe.

"You will let Mother Magdelena know I'm safe?" she asked, her voice pleading with him for the promise he was not certain he could give.

Finally Duncan smiled gently. "As soon as I can... I will call her. Now promise me you'll stay here. No wandering about," Duncan admonished her. "Promise me!"

Alisaunne shifted her weight to one side and glanced about at the vineyards... the open fields, the range of mountains in the distance. Then she arched her eyebrows at Duncan. "And where would I go _Monsieur_? This place is so isolated there does not appear to be another soul in this valley but for those who live here."

Duncan nodded with a smile. "Why do you think we brought you here... " He sobered once more. "Promise me on your life, Alisaunne."

The young woman bit her lower lip, apparently considering his request.

"She will stay... I'll make certain of it." Ian Daffyd's voice broke in on their conversation.

Duncan met the young man's eyes and saw the honesty of his soul reflected there. If he'd have the time, Duncan wanted to know this boy better. Where was he from? When was he from? How long had he been here? But right now, Duncan MacLeod had no time for answers. 

"I'd still like you to promise me," he finally said to Alisaunne, noticing that her attention was now on the young man at her side. "_At least_," thought Duncan, "_she seems to have found another infatuation._" Not that it was any better for the girl than the previous one she'd had on him.

Alisaunne nodded, "Yes... I'll stay."

Duncan gave her arm a squeeze as he backed away to his car. He motioned to Ian to follow him.

"Why not go with Sister Simplice and see about quarters," Ian gently suggested to the girl. After she left with one of the mortal nuns, Ian joined Duncan at his car.

"Keep a close eye on her while I'm gone."

"Aye... that I'd do anyway. I seldom see young ladies of my apparent age."

Duncan laughed deep in his throat then pushed Ian against the hood of the _Citroen_. "Don't get any ideas. If anything happens to that girl because of you... I will see to it that you do not see the next year in. Do I make myself clear?"

Ian gazed at the Highlander evenly. "I am not a fool, Duncan MacLeod. Do you think I'd wish this half-life we have here on anyone? Too young to wander the world in safety! Too young to enter the game! Too young to really go anywhere... be anything! For nearly two hundred years I've lived here. Despite appearances... I am not a child. Nor are the others."

Duncan released the boy and stood back sensing bitterness and longing in Ian Daffyd. "Ursa will be watching her, too. Just keep her safe. Promise me."

"I do swear it... I will watch her and keep her from harm."

Duncan climbed into his car, placing his sunglasses across the bridge of his nose. He turned on the ignition.

Ian leaned down by the open driver's window. "Come soon for her, Duncan MacLeod. This is not a place she should stay long. She will figure too much out if she stays."

"Do the mortals here know?" Duncan asked.

"Aye... they keep our secret here. The day laborers who work the fields don't know, of course, but the sisters know. Many of them were children here. These few chose to remain after they were grown."

"Who would bring children here to raise?" Duncan pondered aloud.

"One of the others. She finds little ones sometimes and brings them here... a child, younger than me and so much older. I think she despairs of ever having children of her own... even if it were magically possible, so young she is. She finds them... she raises them... she lets them go. But some stay."

Duncan nodded in understanding. Immortals find different ways to deal with the long centuries of their lives. A child raising children, who would one day grow to be adults while she remained forever a child... Duncan shook his head with a smile at the thought. He shifted into drive. With a wave, Duncan pulled onto the gravel road and headed once more to Paris.

The sooner he got back... the sooner he and Methos could get this immortal... and the sooner they could get back to their research. In the rear view mirror... the convent became a blip on the horizon. Duncan wondered if he were doing the right thing leaving the girl here. But... did he have any other choice?


	28. Chapter 26

****

Chapter 26

__

Within the Standing Stones, in the "before" time

Their numbers were growing. Among the people were now many of the small ones. From where they came and why... were still things only the gods knew.

When the people gathered beneath each full moon within the standing stones... where once there had been few... there were now many.

Aja smiled across the circle at Havron. "_Soon_," she thought. "_Soon it will be us!_" As if he heard her thoughts... Havron smiled back. As they had grown... so too had grown their affection for one another. It was a thing to be... Long before they were old enough to understand... they had known.

In the center of the stones... D'jann raised his arms and began the chants. The people answered... _We are one... now and for all time... we are one._

***

"You cannot do this," said Ga'el to the small ones. "You cannot begin to understand what the unity does to us... what it forces on us." The healer sorted through the herbs in her basket. _She should have known that they would want this. Had she somehow turned a blind eye to the thought?_ "You are far too young... Now we will speak no more of this."

"But we love one another!"

Ga'el sighed and sadness filled her eyes. "Is it love? Or merely desire. There is a difference young ones. Make certain it is love... for once desire has gone... without love... there is only emptiness."

Holding hands Aja and Havron bowed their acquiescence and wandered slowly through the camp. They watched the children of the others and the younger small ones of their own people playing together among the carrocks. To one of the others... there was no difference between the small ones and the children. They grew at the same rate... although the small ones were often taller than children of the same age: taller... swifter... stronger... more agile... more adept.

Kritis... the eldest of the small ones... now full-grown... wished to become as the people were. Only slightly younger, Havron was in no hurry... except in knowing that to unite with Aja... they must also face the changing. As yet... they did not know what the changing was that the elders spoke of. Only that at some point... something was done... and they would then be unchanging.

Aja continued to see some deeper fear in Ga'el's brown eyes. Some secret she did not wish to share... some thought she buried so deeply that not even D'jann was aware of it. They had been united for many lives of the others. They knew one another so well... they did not question nor second-guess one another's actions. With Morannon as judge... they were the Triad of the people.

Near the shoreline, Havron began to skip stones across the water and watch the horizon... wishing to see what lay beyond. Aja sat in the sand and hugged her knees to her chest. She was at home in this place... and could not conceive of another place... or in ever leaving here.

"Perhaps Ga'el is correct. We should experience the change and then see what it is we wish to do." murmured Aja.

Havron hesitated, holding the last stone in his hand and regarded her sadly. "But if we are certain... why should we be forced to wait. Just because the elders chose mates only after many seasons does not mean we must. We are different from them who always were. We are who we are... perhaps our time will not be as long. Shouldn't we grasp desire now?"

Aja drew the patterns of unity in the sand... one atop another. As sand was tossed in her hair from behind... she brushed it free and laughed. "Kritis... stop it!"

Her brother stretched out in the sand near her. "What did she say?"

"That we should wait." Aja brushed off the last of the sand and straightened her necklace of shells.

"They are only elders... what do they understand. They who have lived so long that life holds no excitement for them... that discovery no longer interests them." Kritis had been trying to get the elders to let him build a forge. He saw in his mind what fire could do to earth and its secrets. What things might be made... what things might be built.

Havron joined them in the sand... Up the shoreline they could hear the younger ones laughing and playing games. These first three were leaving behind the immaturity of before. Already their minds were filled with the long unchanging life that would soon be theirs. Havron picked up a handful of sand and let it flow through his fingers. "Time is like the sands... there will always be time... but time is a hard thing to hold on to." He dropped the last of the sand and brushed the final grains from his hands.

Kritis laughed, "You are far too solemn my friend... We should enjoy life... seize it with both hands and make it ours!" The older boy rose and raced down the beach leaping and crying to the heavens.

Aja and Havron watched him go, then gazed deeply into one another's eyes. Their thoughts were filled only with one another. Ga'el had forbidden the unity... but not their being together. So... they would be together... none would stop them... and one day... when the time was right... they would be one.

***

"Come quick!" Kritis' deep voice reached even into the glade where Havron and Aja spent most of their time. Havron raised up on one elbow and Aja shifted beside him.

"What is happening?"

"It's D'jann... he speaks of wandering!" Kritis called over his shoulder as he raced toward the camp... passing the others on his way.

Havron's face sobered... and Aja could almost see a wisp of desire in her beloved's eyes. She knew he often wished to wander. Havron laughed lightly and rose... grabbing her by the hands and pulling her up. He kissed her lightly and then, still holding on to one hand, he led her from their bower and back to the camp of the people.

At the stones D'jann waited for all to arrive. Their numbers had doubled in the last few years. There were more of the small ones in the camp than of the people themselves. He looked over at the tall, muscular Kritis... eldest of the small ones... full-grown... ready for the change. Behind him came running the rest of the people and small ones. He raised his hands for attention. His words would change them all... and put into motion events that would shape the futures of all who followed after.

***************

****

Paris

Eleanor shifted slightly in Methos' embrace... still dreaming he was certain... still trying to put the images into a coherent whole. More and more... as they explored new combinations... the fleeting flashes of the past began to make sense.

In Seacouver... he'd instinctively started with the more basic patterns... the elements... air, water, earth and fire. Then he'd moved on to the less disturbing ones... chiefly desire... because that had been foremost in his mind. She'd countered with chaos... wishing to understand the forces that had shaped his past.

In his mind he had seemed to sense her there behind him as he rode with the horsemen. She hid beneath his cloak and watched with wondering green eyes the chaos he'd once unleashed on the world... and she did not judge. Death... because it was so much a part of them both had been next... countered by life.

One by one they'd placed half of the patterns on one another in various places. Aja had always said they could be read and placed in any combination. By exploring them... by rubbing one placed pattern with another... new vistas and memories had opened. It had nearly drained them both. They'd had to stop... their minds unable to process all they saw.

But even as they had moved apart... the bonding had continued to call... They'd both known they had to finish... darkness hovered in both their minds... ever on the edge of their thoughts. If they finished before the darkness overcame them... they would struggle through to the light... the answers... the understanding of their shared past. Now almost all forty-five were placed on each of them... all but the final two pairs. 

Methos trailed his fingers over her bare back... feeling compassion. He saw her caring for the sick through the centuries... wandering quietly through sickrooms and hospitals... offering comfort to the dying with a sad but gentle smile. Eleanor shivered and rubbed one leg against his... touching despair.

Methos gasped... once more he was in the hospital in Geneva with the dying Alexa. He lay beside her on the hospital bed and held her frail body in his arms. Behind him he sensed the compassion of Eleanor... part of him and with him, as it had not been that day. For a moment he seemed to lie between them both... the dying mortal he had loved, and the immortal who now held his heart.

He shifted again and touched love... He sat next to Eleanor against a wall in a darkened room... no light but that of stars shining through a small window. He reached for her and brushed his hands over her tear-stained face and bent to kiss her... startled that these hands were not his hands... and that he had never known this room. Eleanor gazed at him with a look of love Methos had never known on her face. He blinked.

Once more they were in the hotel room... but when she shifted and looked at him... that look of love was still there. She came closer and kissed him... She was ready. Once the solitary and unpaired pattern that meant choice was placed on them both... there had been a lifting of the darkness... and even the sad-faced woman of the visions had moved aside.

Methos grasped the knife once more. "Are you certain?" They might be able to co-exist without the final steps... they could survive even separation and the darkness now he felt... but if they took the final steps... no power on earth would ever divide them... not even death.

Eleanor sat up next to him and guided the knife to her exposed throat. "I trust you... only you... I choose you!" she whispered. She raised her head, closed her eyes... and waited.

Slowly Methos let the tip of the knife trace back and forth across her throat. This last step was fraught with danger... even he knew that... one slip and all was lost. He sat as close to her in the wide bed as he could and took a deep breath... curving her fingers about his so that she too held the knife. These last ones must be swift... the neck was the one vulnerability immortals had... but it was here the final patterns must be placed.

Swiftly he etched beneath her left ear the first of the final two... time... then let her direct the knife to his own throat. On hers the blood ran more freely than it had from the placing of any of the others. It streamed down her naked body in an incarnadine flood. He felt the tip of the knife enter his own throat and the pattern for unity was traced. Even as the knife was dropped... he clasped her to him... their bleeding necks joined as blood and quickening merged and crackled about them... healing them once more. Even within the flash of old memories that belonged to neither of them... desire rose once more and she sank onto her back beneath him and then arched to meet him as he entered her once more, joining with her and becoming one.


	29. Chapter 27

****

Chapter 27

The long Paris afternoon was one filled with wonder for the wide-eyed Derrick. If Phillip had thought some part of this city would awaken another strange memory in the boy... he was wrong. They'd eaten breakfast at a small sidewalk cafe and then begun their tour of the sites of the Eternal City. But while the boy seemed enchanted with all he saw... there were none of those strange moments that had so marked their time together before coming to Paris.

Nevertheless, Derrick had especially been fascinated with the Eiffel Tower... eager to learn its history and purpose. Phillip had become a walking encyclopedia of history... gently lecturing wherever they were and explaining the answers to all the boy's questions. He'd stood back when they were on the observation deck... watching... waiting to see if the boy made any additional cryptic remarks... but he hadn't. The ten-year-old had plastered his face and hands to the glass and "oohhed" and "aahhed" over the vista... but no more so than anyone else. In the end... even as the late afternoon light seemed to shift in quality... they'd returned to the ground once more.

Derrick had wanted to purchase a souvenir of their visit so Phillip gave him some euros to purchase a small brass and iron replica of the tower. He stood back and watched the boy stand in line to make his purchase at the outdoor stall... and then... Phillip's attention became riveted on a fortune-teller's booth and the crystal ball glowing on her silk covered table. The crystal glowed and within him... a soft feminine voice began to whisper. _Bring it to me! Find it... and bring it to me._

After purchasing his mini-Eiffel, Derrick pocketed his change and caressed the tiny statue, uncertain why it meant so much to him to have it. Something made him glance behind him at the far side of the open-air market on the avenue. A blonde boy... about the same age as he was, stared at Derrick intently. The boy raised a hand and motioned him over. Derrick paused where he was and glanced at Phillip.

Ellie's brother seemed focused on something else... as though in some trance. Derrick gazed back at the other boy who grinned broadly and motioned once more for him to join him. Derrick took one half step... little more than a shift of his weight... then paused. Once more, as in Seacouver when he'd noticed other people... people that Duncan and Ellie and Adam had later said were bad... he felt alarms go off within him. This boy was dangerous! Derrick slowly shook his head... keeping his eyes focused on the other boy.

The boy gestured once more, but by this time, Derrick had slowly returned to Phillip's side.

"Phillip," he said. It took a long moment as well as his pulling at the man's sleeve before his erstwhile guardian blinked and looked down at him.

"Ready to go lad?" he said as if nothing untoward had happened. Derrick laced his fingers into the man's and nodded.

"Can we go back to the hotel now?" he asked, still uneasy about that other boy. Glancing back to where he had seen him... Derrick noticed the boy was gone.

"Not just yet... perhaps some dinner, first," Phillip smiled and led the boy away. "I know this quaint little cafe over on..."

Behind them Kenny fumed. He'd been surprised that the Swordmaster seemed unaware of him... but he'd thought that maybe he could get this boy who was with the man. He could turn him... and then train him or kill him... Kenny wasn't certain what he wanted... but he still wanted to hurt the Greek, pay him back for having refused to help him a month ago or so... when he'd first come to Paris. The Swordmaster had even killed him and left him there in the Luxembourg Gardens... as if he were no one and nothing to be concerned about... as if Kenny's quickening was not even worth taking. When this boy had refused to rise to the bait... and gone back to the Swordmaster... Kenny had backed away... certain that now he'd be sensed. But it seemed the Swordmaster was greatly pre-occupied.

Kenny watched them leave from a distance... still trying to decide if he should follow and make another attempt.

He'd already lost out on the ones at the school. First that other immortal had suddenly broken in and killed the first one... and then he'd lost the pre-immortal girl as she'd made her run from the school grounds terrified. She'd flagged down a passing car and gotten a lift somewhere. Kenny had figured MacLeod's... but by the time he got to the _quai_ where MacLeod's barge was docked... no one was there. So he'd just started hunting again. That was yesterday. Then he'd seen this boy. Another pre-immortal child... two in as many days! They were rare these days! He'd hoped to get this one... but once more he'd failed. He couldn't get close enough... not without raising the awareness of the Swordmaster to his presence.

Perhaps it was just as well. But there was one other he might try if he could get close enough. One who despite precautions was an easy mark. Kenny smiled... he would not waste this trip to Paris. He came here so seldom that he hated to just leave with nothing accomplished. He smiled... yes... the other one was just the ticket.

Kenny pushed his hands into his jeans' pockets and whistled as he walked down the avenue.

***

****

Somewhere in France

Amanda pulled into the parking lot of a small roadside establishment. In previous centuries it had been an alehouse and inn. Now... it was mainly a service station and restaurant. The emphasis... she decided sniffing haughtily... was not on "service". Likely the only reason this cesspool of a business got any customers at all was the historical sign in front of the quaint four hundred-year old building. 

She gassed up and then... against her better judgment... decided to check the place out for a light meal... or maybe only a drink.

Once she entered the dark and smelly tavern... she was reminded of being here with MacLeod a few centuries ago. At least she thought it was the same place. Casually she trailed her fingers over a decorative banister and found the notch her sword had made when he'd eluded her stroke that time. She had been furious with him... but then... he'd been furious with her... too. Making up had been more than just a little bit fun.

Amanda smiled wistfully at the memory, then sobered as she was shown to a table. The food, as she had predicted, was less than satisfactory... and the wine... only passable. She was nearly finished when she became aware of another immortal entering the restaurant.

"Think of the devil," she chuckled as she waved lightly at Duncan. After all, he obviously knew she was here as well... and here she had thought she could avoid him in bypassing Paris.

Duncan gestured to the hostess and crossed to Amanda. "May I join you?" He grinned.

"Of course." They kissed each other's cheeks in that friendly way they had so often used over the centuries. "_He looks tired_," Amanda thought as she sighed greatly and pretended to relish her meal. "So what brings you to this part of France?"

"Just passing through," he ordered and then sat back observing her. "So... where have you been?"

"Oh... here and there... mostly there." She took a sip of the wine and smiled her most dazzling at him.

"I'm headed back to Paris," he said, "and you."

Amanda paused. Where was she headed? She had no idea. "Me, too." she finally said lightly as though it was nothing of consequence. She sliced at her chicken and took a small bite.

Duncan glowered a bit under his pursed brows and looked at her thoughtfully. "Now why don't I believe that?"

"Whatever do you mean Duncan... " Amanda set the fork down and dropped her hands into her lap... clutching at the cloth napkin there.

He grinned and looked around then leaned toward her. "What are you up to?"

The pleasant expression plastered on Amanda's face froze and then faded. "Why do you always expect the worst of me?"

"Years of experience."

Amanda twisted the napkin in her hands... "Fine... " She signaled the waitress. "Check, please." Once she'd gotten it... she paid and stormed out, furious that she'd let him get to her that way. Obviously... she had been correct... She was definitely not ready to meet with friends... and she most definitely was not going to Paris.

She crossed briskly to the _Ferrari_ and was climbing in when Duncan grabbed the door. "Be careful Amanda."

"I'm always careful silly boy," she quipped... determined that she appear as always, carefree and in perfect control.

"There's a madman in Paris hunting immortals in broad daylight."

Amanda leaned back in the seat and met his gaze. "What do you care?"

"I care, Amanda, I care," Duncan said softly.

For a long moment Amanda considered climbing out of the _Ferrari_ and throwing caution to the winds and her arms about this man she cared for... but she knew she was not ready. She knew he wanted something from her she could not now, nor probably ever give... so she turned the key in the ignition and replaced her sunglasses. "Then I shall be careful. _Ciao_ Duncan!" She waved as she drove off in a cloud of dust.


	30. Chapter 28

****

Chapter 28

London

Nathan Barlow shifted uncomfortably in the park bench. He disliked meetings in such public places. He always felt handicapped. But Cassandra had insisted. He'd been surprised that she was already in London... wondered if she were trying to cut him out. But she'd seemed pleased with his findings. Now all he had to do was deliver the map he'd made and she'd know just where this Lord Gray had once lived. What she did with the information was up to her. But Barlow hoped she'd be truly pleased... pleased enough to reward him properly.

Since Cassandra had found him, he'd served her faithfully. He was not such a fool as to think he would ever be the great love of her life... but they were immortal... why shouldn't they just relax occasionally and indulge themselves. Not for the last time, Barlow wished he were more muscular, more good-looking, more... something. He knew he was thin and he'd always been bookish. Not even his immortality had changed that. He supposed if he lifted weights and worked out he'd gain muscle... but he really would rather just curl up with a good book.

Barlow sighed... then started... realizing Cassandra must be nearby. He looked about for her.

"Stop that," the hatted and sun-glassed woman who'd sat down on the adjoining bench said sharply, as she shifted her bulky packages.

Barlow stared. Yes... beneath that broad-brimmed hat and behind those sunglasses it was Cassandra... now why was she dressed like that? Did she think someone was following her for some reason? "Why are you...?"

"Just being cautious Nathan... just being cautious," Cassandra smiled benevolently. She'd never bothered to tell Barlow about the Watchers she'd learned of from MacLeod and his friend Dawson. That kind of knowledge was best kept to a few they had said. If all immortals knew... they might react violently... Cassandra recalled some business several years ago that might have been a Watcher/Immortal confrontation. Besides... knowing and not revealing might give her an edge someday. "Now what do you have for me?"

Barlow held out an envelope, then left it on the bench beside him when she so indicated. "I thought I might help you with this... I've already scouted the house... I couldn't get in as it seemed to be watched by some people... but it appeared deserted."

"You have done your part well... and you will be paid." Then Cassandra re-pitched her voice, hoping it would work on Barlow one more time. Over the centuries she had learned it was best not to use it too often on people... they tended to build up a resistance to it if she did so. "Leave now..."

Barlow stared at her for a long moment... as if struggling with her words and something he wanted... finally he nodded, rose and left.

Cassandra let out a sigh. She shifted her packages and stood up. She seemed to struggle with them a moment and set them down on the bench Barlow had just vacated. In doing so... as she re-gripped them and lifted them once more... she grabbed hold of the large envelope he'd left for her. She shifted the packages once more and deposited the letter in one of the open shopping bags she carried. Slowly... as if elderly and greatly weary... she walked up the street. If she was lucky... the Watcher who had to be on Barlow had not noticed her.

***

****

Seacouver

Joe stirred awake... suddenly aware someone was in his room. He peered between his half-lidded eyes at the sound of gentle breathing... then grinned. "Amy!"

Amy Brennan-Thomas smiled gently at the man she knew was her biological father... but who was for her more a friend and mentor. "I heard you were out earlier chasing the nurses."

"Yeah... up and down the halls as fast as I could," Joe's voice broke up in a cough and a pain spasm. He hit the morphine pump and waited while the drug took effect once more. 

Amy's face regarded him solemnly. "How much of that are you using?"

Joe was touched by her concern. They'd had some rough moments over the years since he'd learned she knew he was her father... but they'd somehow managed to remain civil and even on friendly terms. Joe had used his influence to get her off field assignments since she'd been kidnapped and almost killed by Morgan Walker... and... since she'd had the pleasure of meeting "the doctor" he'd talked to Dr. Zoll about letting Amy work on the Methos Chronicle with her. Amy seemed quite happy in London with Dr. Zoll and she and Joe had gone to lunch a few times over the years... but he seriously doubted they'd ever have that father-daughter relationship he wanted. 

"Not too much... Just now and then... Besides... it's prescribed." Joe grinned. The morphine had hit his system and relaxed him a bit.

"I understand you tried to fight an immortal... Why?"

Joe sighed... so far he'd said little about the reasons... just that he'd been in the middle of a confrontation between Methos, MacLeod and Daniel M'Benga... and had inadvertently been shot. He'd not mentioned the reason... the boy Derrick... and he wouldn't. "Chalk it up to bein' in the wrong spot at the right time. I was Watchin' and was just in the wrong spot." 

"Well you shouldn't have been so close. Field people are supposed to stay far enough away that they are not noticed."

"We weren't expecting trouble... we were at the park for... a picnic."

Amy smirked. "Now why do I think you are lying?"

Joe shrugged and instantly regretted the movement... but he didn't hit the pump... it was too soon and he knew no additional medication would be forthcoming for another half-hour. He closed his eyes... suddenly very tired.

"Joe."

He opened them once more.

"I need to check on some things for you... the sale of the bar... your house..." She spread her hands and smiled, "You know... Are your keys in your coat?"

"Yeah... I think so... right hand pocket." Joe watched while Amy opened the small cabinet closet and rummaged through his coat pockets. She smiled as she held up the keys. "Yeah... that's them." He was suspicious. What could she possibly want with his keys?

Amy crossed to the bed and sorted through them... trying figure out what was what. "And this one?" She held one up.

"You won't need that one. It's to MacLeod's place."

Amy nodded and let it drop... seemingly more interested in the others. Once she had them all identified, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I'll let you rest now, Joe. I'll be back later... maybe I'll bring you some CD's or a book or some magazines or something."

"That'd be nice, Amy."

Joe watched her gather her things and leave... He couldn't help but wonder if she'd truly be back... or if she'd gotten what she came for.

***

Amy flagged down a taxi and gave the address to the driver. She hated deceiving Joe... hated deceiving Dr. Zoll and the rest of the Watchers... but she owed "the doctor." She knew who he was... but she still found herself using that epithet for him when she thought about him "The doctor" was the immortal who had saved her life. "The doctor" was the immortal who was her father's friend. Methos was the five-thousand-year old immortal she happened to be researching. If she kept that clear within her mind... then what she was doing wasn't really betraying anyone... she was just helping a friend.

"The doctor" had asked her to help pull the field Watcher off an immortal in Paris for a few days... Nick Wolfe. Amy had managed that with some slight of hand with some computerized assignment entries. That had been the easy part of what he asked. Nor was it difficult to request time off to see Joe. Dr. Zoll knew of Amy's and Joe's relationship... although most of the Watchers did not... She and Dr. Zoll had discussed that relationship privately over the past few years and Dr. Zoll always suggested that Amy spend time with Joe.

"Even if you don't think of him as your father... he is. My parents are dead Amy... and what I wouldn't give for one more afternoon with either of them."

So when "the doctor" had asked her to come to Seacouver... she had come. Now she would retrieve the item he wanted from MacLeod's apartment... and Fed Ex it to the Paris office. Was this how Joe had gone down the slippery slope to friendship with an immortal? Such a little thing... of no consequence... how could it hurt? But Amy knew how all the little things... all the choices and small decisions... could add up. She knew the Watchers of several years ago had actually considered killing Joe for his friendship with MacLeod... but that had been then... and that had been wrong.

The new policy was to keep an open mind if such situations happened again. Each case was to be considered carefully and without malice. Amy hoped so... she owed Joe's life to "the doctor" now too if the reports were to be believed... how he'd been working on Joe... CPR or something when the ambulance had gotten there. She owed "the doctor" and she was grateful... grateful she'd have at least one more afternoon with the father she barely knew.

The taxi pulled to a stop at MacLeod's apartment building. Amy paid the driver and exited the cab. She stood for a moment staring up at the building... fingering the keys in her pocket. Then she entered seeking the elevator to take her to the fourth floor.


	31. Chapter 29

****

Chapter 29

__

Within the Standing Stones, in the "before" time

Before D'jann had left the people... he had held one last ceremony. One to which Kritis, Havron, and Aja, had been brought. None of the other small ones were there... they must not see... they must not know... the changing was something revealed to Ga'el in the stone of seeing... and only those first three of the small ones were to learn of it at this time.

When the three had awakened from the changing... their palms were marked with their names and then their hands were bound one to another. Lightning and blood had mingled and filled them with a sense of completion.

"If I am right," said D'jann quietly to them in explanation, " You three will be the triad of a new group of the people even as I, Ga'el, and Morannon are for this one. In my wanderings, I will learn if groups of the people in other areas... also have small ones... if so... then all the people may be facing a new time as we grow to live in new places, guardians of the others... watchers of the holy sites. Perhaps you three are meant to lead a band of us to a new place."

He had left the next day... and two others had gone with him. When he'd first asked for volunteers to accompany him in the wandering... Aja had sensed that the idea appealed to Havron... as it always had. But her beloved had put his arm around her and held her tightly. "You are my dream and my vision... I need no other." So he had stayed... and now they'd been changed... ushered into the unchanging life of the elders. The three of them would now take the place of D'jann and those who wandered with him in the ceremonies.

Even more than before... Aja consistently was the one who found the small ones whenever they appeared. Some inner sense spoke to her... and she'd go the stones and collect the mewling infants. The magic of their creation... still something that none of the people could fathom. Aja would brush her fingers over their faces and feel the sign by which they would be known. She would place them with the pairs most likely to care for them and need them.

Gael did this less and less... becoming much more healer to the others. Less and less she looked into the stone of seeing... as if what she saw there troubled her. With D'jann gone and Kritis and Aja grown and on their own... she was alone. Into this loneliness came Morannon. He'd sit with her or share a meal, or walk with her amongst the others. He'd never united with another... he had always been the odd one out... the one for whom there was no mate. Over the years... he remained more and more with Ga'el. To the rest of the people... all was as it should be. They prospered... the winds were warm... the waters were clear... and their numbers continued to grow. As the years passed... more and more of the small ones grew to adulthood and one by one or two by two... they were changed to be forever unchanging.

Havron and Aja raised three sets of small ones who in their own time became unchanging. In recent years... another small one had come to them... one still small and helpless... a dark-haired girl-child who danced and sang... filling the hearts of all who saw her with love.

It was then... that D'jann returned... and the world as they had known it... ended.

****

Paris

Darkness had fallen in Paris. Around the edges of the draperies covering the windows, Methos could just make out the bright lights that lit up the Paris attractions. Eleanor stirred sleepily next to him... with every move... some part of her body slid against his and where the patterns touched one another between them... the visions of each other's past and the strange visions of long ago continued to occupy both their minds.

But the bonding ritual was at last complete. Now it was just a matter of exploring it... of letting it fully develop over the next few days... then... they could part. Methos could go on with his research for the answers to Darius' research... and Eleanor could get Derrick to safety. He wrapped a lock of her hair about his finger and smiled. She would always be a part of him now. 

In the outer room he could sense both a pre-immortal and an immortal presence arriving. Methos focused on the sounds of voices to assure himself it was Phillip and Derrick and then relaxed as he identified Derrick's voice. They were back... they were safe.

He traced over the small scar below her right ear... unity. On their throats the two patterns they each wore had left small white scars. She smiled and shifted again as he touched the pattern... her right hand reached out and lazily ran down his chest... pausing momentarily at joy. She laughed... the sound of tinkling bells. He'd missed that laughter over the past few years.

A knock at the door caused him to groan in exasperation.

"Adam... Ellie..." Derrick's voice had an insistent edge to it. 

Methos looked up... half-rising. "_Kids!_" he thought... "_Why do they always want something at an inopportune time?_" He said nothing aloud. Hopefully Phillip would distract the boy. His fingers continued to trail down Eleanor's bare back. One thing Methos had noticed... one thing he truly liked... Eleanor no longer curled into a ball. She seemed content to lay against him... skin to skin... pattern against pattern.

There was a second, more insistent knock... "Something's wrong... I need to talk... Ellie?"

Methos sprang up and grabbed the hastily discarded jeans from the floor and pulled them on... 

fastening them as he headed to the door. He opened it sharply and stared at the boy's solemn face and at the still form of Phillip... gazing bleakly out the window. "What's wrong?" he pulled the door to the bedroom to softly... not noticing that it didn't latch as he crossed to Phillip.

Phillip turned and looked at him... almost blankly.

"He's been kinda funny all afternoon, Adam," Derrick said quietly. "I think something's wrong with him."

Methos clasped Phillip with both hands and gently turned the immortal to face him, noticing Phillip's blank expression. "Phillip...?"

The Greek's eyes slowly focused on his friend and he seemed to be struggling with a thought... a question... "The crystal... My Lady's crystal... Where is it?"

"The crystal?" For a moment, Methos was stunned. What did the crystal have to do with any of this? Phillip had helped him steal it from the Tower of London over five hundred years ago... but even then he'd had no interest in it. He'd held it... but unlike Methos and Eleanor... had seen nothing within it. It did not glow for him... it did not show him a vision of an ancient past or a scene from a far-off future. It had merely been a crystal... totally worthless... and of no practical use. Methos had never shared with Phillip that he'd seen a vision of the past in that stone... the same one he'd once seen as a boy. Nor, he was certain, had Eleanor shared the vision she'd had... that flash of a sword. That vision had terrified her as if the sword she had seen had come for her. She'd refused to ever touch the stone again. He'd explained to her a hundred or so years ago that the stone had been Aja's... but even then... Eleanor had been frightened of it... afraid to hold it again. "Why do you ask about that, Phillip?"

Phillip's face betrayed some struggle that he seemed to be going through. Finally he whispered, "She wants to know where it is."

"Who wants to know?"

Just then... Methos heard Derrick's tortured scream.

***

Adam was focused on Phillip. Adam would figure out what was wrong. What Derrick really wanted... now... this minute... was to see Ellie. He'd missed her all afternoon. He understood that grownups sometimes had to be by themselves and that they did things he did not entirely understand... He wanted Ellie to be happy... and Adam made her happy. She'd seemed so unhappy without him the last week or so... and Derrick had been happy to see that Adam had come to see her. He'd been happy for her, but he had missed her today. He wanted to show her his Eiffel Tower that he'd bought... he wanted her to hear all about his day.

The door was open a crack. Slowly Derrick opened it and called out softly as he entered, "Ellie..." A shaft of light from the outer room fell across the bed. Within that light... Derrick saw a horror from his nightmares.

There was blood all over the once white sheets of the bed... and within that blood lay Ellie. She lay naked on her stomach... one arm outstretched. Her eyes were closed. Derrick's mind shut down... all he knew was that Ellie was dead... as dead as the Ellie of his memories... She was dead and lying in a pool of her own blood! He opened his mouth and screamed! About him the darkened hotel room seemed to whirl and spin.

He could hear her, but she was dead... she was dead... she was dead! He collapsed.

***

Methos flipped on the lights as he re-entered the bedroom at the sound of Derrick's scream. What he saw made him pause.

Eleanor was kneeling on the floor cradling Derrick whose small body was jerking in violent spasms. His blue eyes stared blankly out of a pale face and a strangled cry emanated from the boy. But it was the sight of the bed that made Methos pause.

He had not realized how much blood they had spilt during the ritual. The room had been darkened and the two of them had both been focused on the visions they were sharing. They'd been at it most of the day... Methos glanced at his own arms even as he knelt beside Eleanor. Smears of blood were on them... just as they were on her... all over her.

Derrick continued to jerk as if in a Fugue State, totally oblivious to Eleanor's voice or caresses.

"I'll take him." Suddenly all efficiency, Methos scooped the boy into his arms and stood to take him into the other bedroom... out of this one.

Eleanor rose to follow. "Get cleaned up first." His voice was sharp with her... but it wasn't at her he was angry, so much as with himself for not having considered the boy's curiosity and his attachment to Eleanor.

As he passed Phillip... the Greek, staring at the bloodied bed, murmured, "By the gods what have you two been doing?" 

Methos spared him only a glare as he brushed past him taking the boy out of the room. He lay him on one of the beds in the suite's other bedroom, quickly feeling the boy's pulse. It was strong and steady... unlike the de Pres girl yesterday. This was not shock... so much as a total withdrawal mentally from the world. The boy just jerked and seemed unaware of surroundings. Gradually he seemed to tire as the ragged breaths came slower and slower and the jerking motions less severe. But still there was no sign of cognizance in his eyes.

Eleanor, wrapped now in a hotel terry-cloth robe... her dark hair still wetly plastered about her head, rushed in. She slid onto the other side of the bed and felt Derrick's forehead.

"Derrick... Derrick love... I'm here Derrick... I'm here... I'll always be here. I'm fine... I'm not hurt." Her soft voice continued to murmur platitudes as she kissed his forehead and stroked the side of his face. "Derrick... it's okay... It's all okay."

Methos could feel within him her focus on the boy... on taking care of him... her compassion. It mirrored his own. Looking down at his own bloodied arms... he finally said quietly, "I'm going to clean up now... Will you be all right watching him?"

"We'll be fine." Her focus was still on the boy. Gently Methos clasped her shoulder. He did not know what to say... but then he realized he didn't have to say anything... she knew how he felt... as surely as he knew how she did.

Even as he turned to leave the room, he heard her say, "Methos..." he paused and looked back at her. Her green eyes glittered above a small smile. Eleanor mouthed at him, "I love you." Then she returned her attention to the boy. Methos returned her smile, although she did not see it, and sent his own feelings out to her as well.

As he passed through their bedroom to shower, he chuckled at Phillip who was busy stripping the bed. "I don't know what we're gonna tell hotel housekeeping... " the Greek was saying, "There are bound to be questions. Whatever you two were doing... couldn't it have waited?"

Methos shrugged. "Not really."

Phillip suddenly tossed the gathered linens down on the bed and crossed to Methos, swiftly drawing his sword in a fluid motion as he approached the ancient. In one motion he had the elder immortal against the wall with his blade at his throat. Methos stood quietly... but his heart was pounding and his mouth was dry.

"If you _ever_ hurt her... I _will _take your head... and you _know_ I can!" Phillip's expression seemed almost feral for a moment and his words were little more than a dark hiss.

Methos did not move. Finally, Phillip dropped his blade away from the ancient's neck and stepped back still glaring. Methos carefully rubbed his neck and glared back at the Greek. "If you try that again... I suggest you do so when Eleanor is not around. If you do try it... she may very well take _your_ head."

Then he entered the bathroom, shutting the door as he started the water for his shower. He had some additional questions for Phillip... but they'd have to wait for the moment. Wait for both of them to calm down.


	32. Chapter 30

****

Chapter 30

It was dark by the time Duncan returned to Paris. He truly hoped Amanda hadn't been coming to the Eternal City and that nothing he'd said to her would bring her here. He wanted to spend time with her... he wanted to hold her... but not now... Right now he had to find out just who this immortal was that had slain mortals in so public a manner... as well as at least one of them. He had to find him and deal with him before the Paris authorities became any more involved and suspicious.

He'd tried to reach Methos since leaving Alisaunne at _Ste. Genevieve_, but the older immortal was not picking up. All Duncan got was the recording that took messages. Duncan had already left five. "Damn him!" Duncan thought as he patrolled the main avenues of the city... hoping to sense someone... anyone... But so far... his search had been fruitless.

He turned down the _Avenue Bosquet._ The lights of the city were bright and cheerful... the city as always a center of life and art. He could recall a time when there had not been electricity here... and when those magic lights had first begun to appear... strung about buildings and up and down the streets... He remembered when the street lamps themselves had first appeared... the old gas lamps... then the modern electric ones. It was at times like this that being an immortal in a changing and advancing world gave him pause to truly appreciate his long life.

There were other times, of course, when he did not joy in it. When he'd had to watch people he cared about grow old and die while he remained. And, of course, there was the game. If immortals could just live and the game end without the deaths of his friends... teachers... students... what would he give? Oh... he'd continue to fight if pressed... he still practiced daily... but his longevity was beginning to make him wistful about the people he lost.

Perhaps some of this reverie had been caused by the ones he'd met at _Ste. Genevieve_. The children were reminders that for his kind... a childhood accident could be a sentence of eternal childhood. The three-year old little girl had seemed especially vulnerable. The boy Ian said he'd died in a coal mining accident in Wales. He at least seemed almost old enough physically to have a chance for survival in the outer world. The elderly nun Sister Luke, however, had no chance in the game at all. She had been ninety-six when she'd died. And while immortality gave her health and had stopped her aging... she was still ninety-six and was an easy target.

"When I am weary of just continuing, Highlander, I shall leave this place and enter the outer world. I'm just not quite ready to die, yet. To me... the world is filled with wonder and there is still so much to learn." She'd smiled sadly. Duncan had felt she would likely ask for death from one of the children one day... that she would give them what little strength she had in the hope that it would help one of them.

His thoughts returned once more to the children. Had Methos found and brought them all there? Why? If not... he certainly had known of that place for some time. "The doctor" they called him... some calling him Dr. Benjamin or Dr. Adams or Dr. Edwards or... MacLeod shook his head. How did he keep all those names straight? Duncan had long ago decided he was who he was... _Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod_! He could almost here his mother say it and then say..."_and let no man tell ya different!_" So that is who he was... and always would be. Raised to lead the clan... but who now was his clan? He smiled... his immortal friends were his clan... Now if only there some way to end the game so that they could all live. He wanted to find a way to keep all of them safe. Otherwise... what hope did any of them have at any happiness. If he could find a way... then maybe... just maybe... Amanda would stop running.

An explosion ripped through the night!

Duncan swerved to the right and pulled to a stop. Several blocks away a fireball rose into the dark sky shooting out tongues of light, smoke, fire and lightening. Slowly the sounds of sirens and the crackle of flames replaced the boom of the initial explosion. Within him... Duncan had the sense that someone was lost... an immortal... an old immortal... one with power and possibly millennia of experience within him. "_Methos?_" Duncan wondered... but that didn't feel quite right. Slowly he pulled once more onto the avenue and followed emergency vehicles towards the site of the explosion. He wouldn't be able to get all the way there likely... but maybe he could get close enough to sense something... or discover something.

***

By the time Methos had finished his shower, dressed and returned to the second bedroom... Phillip had finished stripping the bed and likely deposited the linens in a laundry shoot down the hall. The Greek's next task would be to find some replacement bedding. He was still out of the suite.

Derrick seemed to have partially recovered. He sat on the bed clutching Eleanor, as if afraid that he would truly lose her. He eyed Methos darkly and there was a distrust of the immortal in his eyes that had not been there before.

Methos approached. The boy snarled at him. Methos stopped.

"He didn't hurt me, Derrick... it was just a trick of the light... You didn't see what you thought you saw. I'm not dead... Adam will never hurt me." Eleanor's voice softly continued to reassure Derrick... but Methos doubted that she was getting too far with him.

Methos took a deep breath, put on his best "Adam" smile and opened his hands... spreading wide his arms, "I love Eleanor, Derrick... I will never hurt her." But the boy's eyes were still filled with hate and suspicion. Methos let out a deep breath and placed his hands on his hips and turned... wanting to pace... and at the same time to leave. But he needed to stay and face this... 

Behind him he heard Phillip re-enter. The Greek had managed to get some sheets from somewhere. Methos motioned to him to join them.

"Hey... Derrick! Feeling better lad? You gave us quite the scare!" Phillip's cheerful basso voice echoed oddly in the room.

Derrick managed a weak smile and clutched even tighter at Eleanor, once more burying his face in her chest.

"Let's talk," Methos finally murmured after sensing that Eleanor wanted to be alone with the boy once more... He left the room and Phillip followed.

"Now tell me what the hell's been going on!" Within him... that edge of darkness that was hovering on the edge of his consciousness was rising once more. "Who wants the crystal?"

Phillip looked at him blankly... as if he had no idea what Methos was asking. Then the light seemed to dawn in his eyes... He seemed to struggle for words and then managed to barely get out, "Cassandra."

Dumbfounded... Methos sat heavily in a sofa. His mind was a whirl of images of Aja with the crystal in her hands trying to tell him something. For some reason, he'd thought that maybe she'd been trying to get through to Phillip as well... but Cassandra? How was she involved? What did she know? "Tell me everything." Then he settled back to hear the complete story of the trio's trip across Canada, Derrick's tortured nightmares... Phillip's decision to contact the psychic for help... and their discovery of Derrick's "mortal" past. "And the crystal?"

"She told me to find it. She asked me what I knew about it... I _had_ to tell her... I..."

Methos' shoulders sagged. "How much did you tell her."

"Just that we did steal it... me... Little Sister... and her husband."

Methos met the Greek's eyes. "Did you give her my name? Did she know I had the crystal?"

"No... only the name Lord Gray... she had that already... Somehow... I _was_ able not to mention you... I don't think she was even thinking that you might be involved."

Methos closed his eyes and thought carefully what this might mean.

"Where is the crystal Methos?" Once more Phillip's voice had an odd edge to it... as if he had no control of the asking.

"I don't think I'd better tell you, Phillip." Methos met his friend's eyes and saw the pain the Greek felt by his unintentional betrayal. 

"I really thought we had no other choice but to call her." Phillip hung his head slightly, his words barely audible. "If you could have seen the boy... listened to his screams... night after night... it was tearing Eleanor apart."

"Still... Cassandra and I are not and likely will never be friends... or even allies. Talking to her was an error." Methos' voice was tinged with bitterness. How easily everything could be lost if they weren't very careful.

At that moment the hotel suddenly shook with the ferocity of a nearby explosion!

Methos strode swiftly to the window, casting aside the drapes as he stared at the fireball in the night sky. In the bedroom he heard Eleanor wail suddenly. His breath caught in his throat and his heart pounded with the feeling of her despair. Methos raced into the room and despite Derrick's glare, swept the sobbing Eleanor into his arms.

"It's Cassius... it has to be!" She buried her face in his chest and continued to sob. From the bed where he sat Derrick glared at them both... then his face softened... he crept over to them and put his small arms about Eleanor, too.

"It's okay Ellie..." Suddenly it was the boy trying to comfort her... and with that, the impasse seemed broken... the roles reversed.

From the door... Phillip watched Methos and Derrick united in their need to comfort Eleanor. He too wanted to help... but this was best left for them. He closed the door to the bedroom and picked up the linens. Time to make that other bed up... He would likely be sleeping in there tonight. As he passed the television he considered turning it on to get some news about what had happened. Phillip chuckled. "That can wait," he thought. He already knew one of them had died... and quite spectacularly. The details of who... why... and who had done it... could wait... at least for now.


	33. Chapter 31

****

Chapter 31

Duncan had managed to get closer than he had thought he would be able to. The old _maison_ where the Roman historian Cassius Marcellus had lived, was a burning hulk. Duncan had only met him once... not long after meeting Darius. The priest had given him the address and sent him over with a letter.

"He likes to know our stories... who we are... what we believe. If you feel comfortable telling him..." Darius had shrugged with a smile, then turned to assist some parishioner with a problem.

Duncan had gone. He'd found the old man interesting and had shared some of his background with him... but not everything. He did note that when he asked about others... Cassius had simply smiled. "I keep stories of us for the future young Duncan MacLeod... I do not spy nor do I carry tales. What I know is what you wish to share to be remembered about you someday... When none of us are left." After making a move on a chessboard, considering the chessmen for a time while Duncan had spoken, Cassius then made an additional move... He wrote something on paper, folded it and gave it to Duncan for Darius... Other than that one visit... Duncan hadn't really thought about the man in close to two hundred years. The Roman wasn't really sociable.

And now... Cassius Marcellus was apparently dead.

A number of firetrucks and firemen were attempting to control the blaze. But the _maison_ was a total loss. At this point, Duncan did not think they had found a body.

He started and looked about suspiciously... the thrum of another presence was close by. His fingers felt for the hilt of his _katana_. His eyes, hawk-like peered through the gathering crowd... seeking for whoever was there... whoever was peering back at him. Then he saw him... and his eyes widened.

The immortal man-child Kenny stared angrily at him through the crowd. The boy had a long coat on... so he had to be carrying. Anger passed over Duncan's face... anger and determination. If Kenny were responsible... he would die this night. Duncan slowly and carefully approached the eight-hundred-year-old immortal.

Kenny for his part did not move back but appeared ready to flee if necessary. As soon as Duncan came to a stop a few feet away, Kenny snarled, "I didn't do it MacLeod! It wasn't me."

"Why should I believe you? Attacking an old man attempting to help you is exactly your style!"

"Oh... I thought about it... but the other one got there first. I saw him leave." Kenny's voice was still defiant. "We're in public MacLeod... Try anything and I'll yell you got a sword. Who do you think they'll believe."

MacLeod loomed over the boy, "You saw him? The one who did this?"

"Yeah... and I saw him enter that girls' school, too."

Duncan clasped one hand over Kenny's arm and pulled him swiftly into the shadows. "Shut up I only want to talk...stop struggling!"

"All you want is what you've always wanted... what they all want." Kenny twisted out of MacLeod's grasp, but he didn't leave.

"What did he look like?"

"Big fellow... very big. He was dressed in black...black coat... black hair... maybe a black beard... I didn't get a good look at his face."

"How convenient." Duncan's voice betrayed his skepticism.

"Hey... I was just trying to make certain I wasn't his next victim. You think this is smart MacLeod? Killing mortals and immortals so publicly?"

"Seems to me you have a penchant for killing mortals."

"Yeah... when they get in my way. But wholesale slaughter? You think that's smart?"

"No..." Duncan stared back at the fire for a long time. Then he said flatly. "Why were you at the girls' school?"

An evil leer appeared on Kenny's young-looking face. "For the girl, of course." He backed away from MacLeod. "I saw you there... just thought it would get to you if she had an early accident."

Duncan made to grab the boy... but Kenny backed away, his voice raised slightly, "Shall I scream for the cops, MacLeod?" Then he turned and raced into the crowd.

Duncan let him go. Kenny was a real pain... and one he truly wanted to see dead... but not right now... not in the middle of a crowd of spectators and the nearby authorities. Later... when the time was right.

Right about now... Duncan was wishing he could call Joe. The Watcher could check his database and likely find this immortal. Surely the Watchers knew what was going on... But Joe was lying in a hospital bed half a world away recovering from gunshot wounds... and somehow... Duncan did not think the Watcher organization would be too free with information right now... especially with him. If he could get the information to Methos... perhaps his friend could hack into the system he had once helped develop.

Thoughtfully Duncan returned to his car and tried Methos' cell phone one more time. Still nothing! He left one more message, then resumed his drive through the night streets of Paris both hoping to find the mysterious immortal... and dreading what might happen if he did so.

***

****

London

Cassandra had studied the map Barlow had provided, and then, as darkness fell, taken a taxi to near the address she'd been given. She'd paid the cabbie off, then walked the last few blocks to the large graystone manor house.

Now standing in the shadows, she was aware of the men in a car parked before the house, men who were obviously on some sort of stakeout. Cassandra considered getting closer and trying to hear what they might say. They were police likely... perhaps this Lord Edward Gray was still a thief in his current life.

Cassandra had checked the directory and noted the name William Benjamin as the owner. That name meant nothing to her... but she had heard it before... she was just not certain when or where she had heard that name. Perhaps she could put Barlow back to work.

Cassandra stiffened at the feel of an immortal. She darted into the shadows and then hissed at the newcomer, "Barlow! Why are you here?"

"Thought maybe I could help you. I could distract those men if you like... or you could distract them while I search the house."

Cassandra stared at him, slightly peeved at herself for not having considered that option earlier. Likely it would have occurred to her later... this was, after all, only a scouting mission on her part. Still... Barlow might prove useful. "You distract them... then leave. Keep them busy about three minutes... that should give me enough time."

Barlow nodded, "But are you certain you want me to leave... You might need help getting back out."

She shook her head. "Just keep them occupied a few minutes... Ask for directions. Then thank them and leave." Cassandra was ready to pitch her voice at him one more time if he balked... but it was not necessary. 

Barlow nodded with a shrug. "But I'll check on you tomorrow. Just to be certain you're all right!" He pivoted and slowly sauntered over to the car.

While he was talking with the men... Cassandra slipped behind the car and onto the grounds. The house was dark... and she felt no other immortal presence there. Carefully she made her way around the manor house to the rear... and began checking windows (all barred) and doors (all bolted with deadlocks). She stepped back and peered at the second and third story. All the windows she could see were barred. Whoever lived here had made certain that entry by anyone other than himself would be difficult if not impossible.

"Now... " Cassandra murmured to herself. "If I wanted to get in without anyone knowing how... what would I do? What access might I arrange that no one would suspect?" Her eyes traveled up the walls to the roof. Cassandra smiled. Perfect! She'd changed into low-heeled boots for this little foray... but she wasn't too certain how well they'd do on a climb of this nature. Cassandra removed her long trench coat, folding it neatly into a pile, which she hid behind the trash-cans. She flexed her muscles and adjusted her sword sheath so that the sword hung across her back. Taking a running leap at the drainpipe... Cassandra began to inch her way skyward to the roof.


	34. Chapter 32

****

Chapter 32

Seacouver

Anne Lindsey noted the young dark-haired woman in Joe's room. Anne tended to run by to check on Joe whenever she was due to get off work. Her main priority was getting home to Mary, but Joe was almost like family.

"Hi..." Anne said holding out a hand to shake. "I'm Anne Lindsey... a friend of Joe's."

The young woman smiled as she coolly clasped Anne's hand with a smile, "I'm Amy Brennan-Thomas... I work with Joe."

"I see." Anne said nothing more. Privately she wondered if this woman knew Anne's own knowledge of the Watchers or of her connection to Joe's assignment... Duncan MacLeod. "Has he... been asleep long?"

"Since I returned. I really didn't want to wake him before I left... but I didn't want to just leave either." There was wistfulness in the young woman's voice.

"Amy..." Anne said in realization. "Joe has a daughter named Amy."

The young woman's eyes narrowed a moment and then she smiled and nodded. "That's me... I didn't realize he'd told anyone."

"Oh... he didn't... Someone else did." Anne wasn't certain if she should mention the mysterious Adam Pierson or not. And she wasn't certain if Duncan had known... though he likely had. "Someone else he worked with who was here the first day... I helped collect the next of kin information when he was admitted since I knew him" Anne knew she was babbling.

The young woman nodded but said nothing.

From the hospital bed Joe moved slightly and opened his eyes. "I must be seein' double! Two pretty ladies!" He grinned at them both and winked.

"Just checking on my number one patient," remarked Anne.

"Hi Joe... brought those magazines and things." Amy's voice was soft and gentle.

Joe focused his attention on his daughter and tried to share a warm smile. She glanced down, biting her lip.

Realizing the father and daughter needed to be alone, Anne took the opportunity to leave. "I'll just be going now." Anne motioned to the door. "I'll stop in tomorrow."

"You better!" Joe called out.

After she left... the silence in the hospital room was almost unbearable.

Finally Amy brushed her hair back from her eyes and smiled. "So... books... magazines... CD's... or the TV for right now?"

"How about a conversation?" Joe's voice was not insistent... but it betrayed how he felt.

Amy nodded and pulled her chair up closer. "All right... What shall we talk about?"

"How 'bout why you're really here?"

Amy laughed as she shook her head. "Never could get one past you, could I." She sobered. "I'm here because I do care, Joe. Maybe what we have isn't normal or close... but I am your friend... as I hope you are mine."

"Always."

Amy took a deep breath, "Tell me something... before I explain... Why did you keep Methos' identity secret for so long? I have to know!"

"For the Chronicle?"

"No... for me."

"You met him... why do you think?"

Amy sat back, closed her eyes and seemed to consider his words. "Truthfully... I don't know. He's rather endearing in his way."

"He is that!" Joe had closed his eyes again... but he was still listening to her.

"But he is also tricky and he lies and he can't be trusted! It seems sometimes that he has plans within plans within plans and sometimes I wonder if even he knows what he's doing."

"That's our Methos!"

"And he saved your life. But tell me, Joe... did he also endanger it?"

Joe thought about his answer. His eyes were still closed but he nodded slightly. "I don't think he meant to... there were... extenuating... circumstances."

"Like what?" Amy leaned forward once more... her hand clasped his carefully being certain not to disturb the IV.

Joe sighed, "Like saving another life... one that meant a lot to him."

"MacLeod?"

Joe said nothing. With his other hand he reached for the television controls. "Why are you here, Amy?"

Amy was silent. Joe turned on the television and flipped through the eight channels on the hospital closed circuit. Four of the stations broadcast in-house documentaries on procedures and new-baby care. The other four were all local stations.

"He asked me to come... he wanted a book from MacLeod's apartment."

"And you got it for him." 

Amy nodded silently. 

"Why?"

"Because I owe him your life and my life. Because I want to be a better Watcher... I want to know him... I want him to talk to me the way he talks to you."

Joe chuckled slightly, "Everyone thinks he talks to me... Now why is that?"

"It's not true?"

"Oh... we talk sometimes. Sometimes he tells me old stories... but as to what goes on in that ancient head of his? No way!"

"Still," Amy was almost breathless. "To talk to someone who was alive when Julius Caesar walked the Earth... or Jesus Christ... or Buddha... What I wouldn't give!"

"Did you sell your soul for the chance, Amy?"

"Maybe I would... maybe I have."

"Then you understand the temptation. For the chance to listen to his tales... even if I know he's pulling my leg... so to speak... half the time... for that chance... Damn right I'd keep his secret!"

Amy nodded. "Then we are more alike than even I could ever have foreseen."

Joe smiled... but his smile was even broader when Amy leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Now then... what music did you bring me?" He was about to turn the TV off when the news bulletin banner came on telling of ... Massive Paris Explosion... Joe shushed his daughter and turned up the volume. He had a bad feeling about this... a very bad feeling.

***

****

Paris

The explosion on the far side of Paris lit up the night.

Amanda, exiting the _Ferrari_ parked before the apartment building she still held a lease in, paused. Her eyes widened. From here she could see and feel little. 

She shook her head, "_With the way the world is today... it's no surprise, I suppose_." But some part of her wept for the death of innocents caught in the blast and hoped the effects would be minor. She pulled her overnight bag out of the trunk and was just slamming it shut when she sensed someone near her.

Amanda dropped the bag at her feet and fingered her sword strapped to her back as she turned in the direction of the feeling. "MacLeod? Are you following me?" she called out.

But there was no one there. Only a cold wind that blew trash up the street and the reflection of neon on pools of water were evident. 

Amanda relaxed. She bent to retrieve her bag. "Next thing I'll be talking to myself!" Then she smiled and entered the building using her key.

Her top floor apartment was as she had left it... dark... and quiet. Dust-covers over her furniture appeared ghost-like in the darkness. Swiftly she flipped on a light... banishing the eeriness of the moment.

She was alone... She was in Paris... But it was only for one night. Amanda had no intention of remaining here. She dropped her bag in the main room as she slowly entered the bedroom. The linens might need refreshing... It had been years after all since she'd last been here. Swiftly she set about setting her rooms to rights. An hour or two before dawn... all was as she wished... and Amanda slipped into her wide bed alone.

***

Below on the street... just out of range... he loitered... smiling. A wicked laugh rose in his throat but he quickly stifled it. It had been too long since he'd had a plaything. One not for killing... but for other... more interesting pleasures. Far too long! Perhaps... if he could not find the one he wanted... Amanda would suffice. She might serve a purpose for the time being. He moved back into the shadows and watched... and waited. He could be patient... oh yes... so very patient... His enemies had taught him patience. Perhaps he'd just tease about her for awhile... there and not there. After all... he still hoped to find the other one. Yes... it would unnerve her perhaps... and then he could strike. Thoughtfully he reached into his coat pocket for a snack, smiling as he did so. "I wonder how she'll taste?" he thought as he nibbled away.


	35. Chapter 33

****

Chapter 33

Paris

Methos woke at dawn and glanced at Eleanor on the far side of the bed. He smiled. Between them, lay Derrick still holding tightly to the lapel of her terry robe... as if still terrified she would vanish before his eyes.

As he reached toward her fully content, Methos brushed Eleanor's dark hair away from her face. His fingers briefly touched the time symbol below her left ear. Within her sleep she smiled and her own hand lifted from Derrick's shoulder toward Methos' own neck where her fingers brushed softly across his neck... soft as velvet... soft as silk. A tingle of togetherness sparked through him. Her eyes opened.

From the main room Methos could hear voices... Phillip and likely room service.... and the television. He nodded toward the door and mouthed that he was going to check on things.

Eleanor nodded and lay her head back down... but her eyes followed him to the door. He turned and looked at her... curled into a ball on her right side... guardian of the sleeping boy, as he was guardian of her. For a moment another of the visions of the far past brushed over his mind and he seemed to understand something about Aja... but it passed and was gone.

The two of them needed to remain in close proximity with one another in the next few days to finish letting everything set correctly. So many memories... not only his and hers... but the old memories as well... the ones Aja had evidently buried in both their minds. Already Derrick's presence was coming between them. Yet... somehow it was needed... last night had proven that. It had taken both of them to calm her down... both of them to re-assure her that all was as it needed to be.

Eleanor's awareness of Cassius' death... and Methos had no reason not to accept her awareness of the event... Cassius did live nearby... it made sense... but her increased sensitivity worried him. Was this a by-product of the bonding? If so... why had _he_ felt only her despair, a despair that the boy had also evidently felt, a despair so great it had broken through the terror that had earlier claimed Derrick's mind, allowing him to reach out to both of them.

The boy had come out of his terror at what he'd inadvertently seen earlier and his suspicion of "Adam" long enough to offer comfort to his "sister". But he had refused to be separated from her... even for the night. So the three of them... with Derrick in the center... acting as both guardian and chaperone between them had slept.

For Methos it had been strange to have her near him... to be able to touch her... and to not simply be able to take her in his arms and hold her or make love to her. Yet... there had been something so right about it... that he'd found himself oddly content. Although... he smiled... he did not ever want to share a bed that way again. But Derrick was a part of Eleanor's life... and his too. If there was something of Darius in the boy... he owed it to her to be certain the boy survived. Indeed... he owed it to himself as well. Darius had died on his watch... and the priest's death had cost him the last ten years... ten years in which Eleanor had refused to see him... talk to him... be with him. 

Yet that absence had opened up his life in ways he could never have imagined. He'd met Joe through the Watchers... and then MacLeod... and then Alexa. For a moment Methos stood silent as thoughts of his all too brief time with Alexa played over his mind. Once more... as yesterday... he seemed to sense Eleanor there as well now... behind him... supporting him... mourning with him. Methos smiled... she was with him now... that was what mattered.

In the main room, Phillip was just closing the door. On the television set... a news anchor was discussing world events. Methos pulled up a dome from the laden breakfast cart and smiled at the omelets. Under other domes there were platters of crisp bacon, sausages, waffles, and fried potatoes. Elsewhere was a pot of coffee... some juice, a bowl of fruit and some milk and cereal. Swiftly Methos piled one of the plates with his choices and settled before the television. Phillip did the same.

"Wasn't certain what you might like today so I tried to get a varied selection."

"It's fine." Methos was hungry. Only now was it dawning on him that he had not eaten at all yesterday, so focused had the two of them been on finishing the ritual.

"Wait... wait..." Phillip clicked the remote to raise the volume. "Here's something."

"...on the _Rue St. Dominique_. A statement by police indicates one body was found inside... and that body was decapitated. This is the third major incident of this nature in three days. Paris police seem to think there is a serial killer on the loose... but how he is choosing his victims remains unknown..."

Eleanor quietly entered to stand for a moment behind Methos. She threw Phillip a whispered "Good morning!" brushed her fingers along one side of Methos' neck... caressing it... Then she pulled away and glanced at the breakfast cart... filling a plate with her choices.

Phillip turned the sound down once more and nodded at the closed bedroom door. "How is the boy this morning?"

"Still sleeping." Eleanor settled on the sofa curled up beside Methos and stared at the television while she pushed food around on her plate. Finally she began to eat.

The news anchors continued to discuss the story. When an interview with a specialist came on... Phillip once more raised the volume. "... was perhaps something to do with a gas main. The scene is still being researched and as to what may have ignited and set the explosion off... we still have no idea. But at this time... terrorism and explosives do not appear to have been the cause..."

As the anchors moved on to something else... Phillip lowered the volume. "So... with this going on... what do we do now?"

"Paris certainly isn't safe at the moment... for any of us," Methos agreed. "I wonder what this immortal was hoping to learn from Cassius?"

"Who were the others?" Eleanor was evidently full as she slipped the half-eaten plate of food onto the table and rose to pour some coffee. She offered some to the men who both shook their heads.

"David Maillot and some mortals." Methos answered as he finished up his own plate of food.

"Maillot?" remarked Phillip thoughtfully. "Don't think I ever met him. Either of you?" Neither of the others had.

"I think Cassius had booby-trapped his house in case someone came for him there," Methos continued. "A way to be certain that the records he had would not fall into anyone else's hands."

"Then why go to all the trouble of collecting stories if he was going to destroy everything." Phillip's sarcasm was evident.

"I hadn't seen him in a few years but I had planned to visit him soon. " Methos thought about Valeraine's recent visit to Cassius and whether or not there was any connection there. Had someone hoped to find him... his current identity... the way Valeraine had so easily found him. Had Cassius known it? Or was he simply doing what Valeraine had asked and given her the name of a relatively new immortal he'd heard of. Although he knew Methos... the Roman had never known exactly who he was. Indeed, the only reason Cassius knew that Methos was older, was because as a young Roman soldier Cassius had once met "Antoninus", physician to the legion. But Methos had never shared his distant past with the man.

Even now... too many people knew who he was. He'd told Eleanor and Phillip by his own choice. MacLeod had figured it out on his own and then had told Amanda... and Joe. Cassandra knew... as did the Watchers Council... the Watchers assigned to him... including Amy Brennan-Thomas... but in general... who else? Methos shook his head he had no way of knowing.

If some immortal had tortured a Watcher had the truth come out? Or was this about him at all? Eleanor curled up beside him once more... sipping her hot coffee.

"Perhaps Cassius made a copy of things," she murmured. "Something we could find."

Methos sat up... a single thought now in his mind. "Phillip... what was his legion... his cohort?"

"The sixth legion, I think... I'm not certain of the cohort."

Methos rose and crossed to their bags... withdrawing his laptop. After setting it on the table and pulling up a chair, he opened it and booted up the "game" of documents left for them by Darius. Swiftly he moved through several sections until he came to one page that appeared to have some sort of encryption over it. Methos had puzzled over that page... figuring it might contain a clue... if he could ever de-crypt it. Not knowing where to start... he'd by-passed working on it. He paused. Finally he smiled, "The ninth cohort." Swiftly he typed the numbers onto the password bar and watched as the contents of that one page began to clear... a photo of a building. Methos nodded and dug in his pockets for the brass key. Even as he watched... the photo dissolved on the program. He tried pulling it up once more... but it was gone... erased completely. He couldn't even locate it in the reserve backup memory.

Behind him Eleanor had come to stand. "That explains that."

"What?"

"How Darius knew to get things onto a disc... He really didn't know anything about computers. He must have taken everything to Cassius. Of course... if it was still there..." she paused, "it's all gone now."

Methos thoughtfully turned the key over in his hands once more. "Maybe... maybe not."

Phillip had walked over as well. His voice was quiet and thoughtful. "You think there may be something at that bank?"

"One way to find out." Methos tossed Phillip the key.

"Me?"

"I need to stay out of sight a few days..." he glanced at Eleanor, the corners of his mouth turned up briefly in a smile. "Just be very careful... We'll move to another location to be on the safe side. We can stay in touch."

Phillip laughed. "If there is a madman out there hunting us publicly... what makes you think anywhere in Paris is safe?"

"It likely isn't. But we won't be in Paris. Besides... as you reminded me so eloquently last night... you are the better swordsman if it came to a challenge. Check out the box... it's likely under the name Jacques de Pres."

"Darius' old alias?" asked Eleanor. "Why that one?"

"Just an educated guess. Phillip... check it out... gather what you can and call me. I'll give you instructions then dependent on what you find."

"And where will you be?" Phillip asked.

"Better not to know. Bank opens in an hour."

Grumbling.... Phillip gathered some items for a shower. As he was pulling things out of his bag... Derrick, still looking pale-faced entered the room, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

The boy raced across the room to throw his arms about Eleanor, "I missed you!" His voice trembled as he buried his face into her robe. 

Eleanor kissed the top of his head and gave him a hug. Methos saw once more a strangely sad look in her eyes. She shook her head... as if vanishing whatever it was. Then she held Derrick away from her. "Breakfast?" she asked brightly.

Derrick nodded. Suddenly he realized what was displayed on the computer screen. His eyes glazed suddenly and he pulled a chair up next to "Adam". "Can we play?" he asked.

"Sure," Methos shrugged. "Any suggestions what we do now?"

Derrick nodded and pointed out a move. Before long the two of them were engrossed in it once more, as they had been in Seacouver when they had first seen it. Eleanor laughed... the sound of tinkling bells filled the room.

As he headed to the shower Phillip chuckled, "Now might be a good time for you to clean up and get dressed, too Little Sister. I think you've lost them both for the time being."

Soon the sound of running water emanated from both bathrooms. Methos and Derrick were oblivious to anything... but the shifting patterns of the pages on the computer... as shifting as the sands upon which the boy Methos had once written ancient patterns. Whatever the answers hidden in these pages... it apparently took both of them to find the answers.


	36. Chapter 34

****

Chapter 34

Over the objections of Valeraine... Nick had taken both his charges to Liam Riley and to holy ground.

Last night... when the explosion had rocked the city, Nick had decided to check it out. He'd already spent all afternoon using Burt's contacts to get inside information on the "Paris Slasher" as the media were calling the unknown attacker. Since Maillot had been beheaded... Nick thought it reasonable that an immortal was involved... but the rather public manner of the man's... and Nick was assuming it was a male... activities worried him.

Nick had sided with Marie-France on the women's returning to their convent... but Valeraine had made a valid point. What was to prevent the immortal from attacking them on their way? Or in the women's leading him to a place where their defenses were few? So Nick had contacted Liam and arranged to leave Marie-France and Val with him on holy ground. "Safest place I can think of right now," he mumbled over Val's insistence on accompanying him.

"I don't need to cower!" She'd stamped that foot of hers and pouted. "I can fight... I'm good... I can help!"

"You can get yourself killed!" Nick had retorted angrily... and then he'd continued softly, "Please Val... you can protect Liam and Marie-France. I need to be certain someone is watching them... guarding them."

In the end, Val had agreed... but she was most definitely not happy about remaining behind.

Marie-France had smiled and whispered her thanks to Nick, even as she drew Val close to her and draped a protective arm about the girl's shoulders, rubbing them gently in a friendly caress.

With dawn, Nick had learned the address of the explosion... and had realized that the old historian Cassius was dead. He'd tried to get access to the site to do some detective work... but those avenues of exploration appeared closed. Finally, he'd gone to _Sanctuary_ to mull things over with Burt. As Amanda had years ago, Burt lived in the upstairs apartment over the nightclub. They'd settled in at the closed bar to study what evidence they did have and had already been through three pots of coffee when Nick felt the unmistakable tingling of an approaching immortal. Nick had stiffened fully expecting to see Val walk in against his explicit orders... instead... it was someone else.

"Amanda!" Burt's voice rang out. He stepped out from behind the bar and opened his arms in a wide embrace toward the comely thief. As he reached her, she pulled off the expensive sunglasses and extended her cheek for a brief peck. "Welcome back to Paris... How are you!" Burt kissed one cheek and then the other. He stood back with his hands gently holding hers and grinned warmly.

Amanda as usual was dressed in her signature black. She wore a tight black sheath with a square neckline and a lightweight black calf-length coat made of the same material. Black calf-high boots completed her ensemble except for the royal blue chiffon scarf wrapped about her head and neck... Amanda looked as if she might have stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine.

"Is there something different about you?" teased Burt.

"My hair... it's black again." Amanda patted the side of her head and smiled. Over his shoulder she stared somberly toward Nick. "Hello Nick... miss me?"

"Hardly!" Nick snorted taking another sip of his coffee.

Trying to smooth things over, and painfully aware that something wasn't right between those two, Burt motioned to Amanda to take a seat.

Amanda casually loosened the scarf from about her head... letting it drape about her shoulders... as she did so... Burt noticed that the lining of her black coat was the same royal blue. He smiled at the careful air of elegance she projected as she turned about seeming to admire the bar.

"I like what you've done."

"Well... it's been a labor of love. I have really enjoyed this little business venture you sold me. So... what brings you back to town."

Amanda carefully glided onto a barstool and leaned back on against the bar on her elbows... she still held the sunglasses in one hand. "Just passing through. I didn't really expect you to be open... or anyone here this early... before lunch."

"You mean you didn't expect me to be here," Nick grumbled.

"Truthfully? No... I didn't..." Amanda's voice took on a cold, clipped tone.

Burt shook his head at the two of them. "You know... whatever it is that you two are arguing about... maybe you should go somewhere and hash it out."

Nick turned toward her and grinned, slightly arching an eyebrow. "Maybe that would be a good idea."

"Nick..." Amanda's voice at once seemed hurt and teasing. "You wound me... Perhaps we should just let bygones be bygones." She had bitten on the edge of her sunglasses with an impish grin. As Nick snorted once more, Amanda shrugged and smiled at Burt. "So... what's so important that I find the two of you thick as thieves... no insult intended..."

"None taken," replied Burt. 

"Busy pouring over things so early in the day."

"Last night's explosion..." began the bar owner.

"Yes," Amanda nodded, "I heard it go off about the time I hit town last night." She shrugged. "Some random terrorist violence?"

"Apparently not... police think the Slasher was involved."

"Slasher?"

Nick was the one who replied. "Some idiot's been running around Paris slicing off people's heads."

Amanda's eyes widened in the sudden understanding. "Anyone we know?"

"David Maillot?"

Amanda's breath caught in her throat with a slight gasp. "Really?"

Burt nodded, "He's the only one I think Nick knew... but here are the papers." He pushed a pile of newspapers across the bar toward her. 

After glancing through the specifics... Amanda shook her head. "_Imbecile!_" Her eyes met Nick's. "Maybe you're right... Maybe we do need to take a walk and discuss some things."

Nick nodded. "Can I drop you somewhere or do you have your car with you?"

"I walked over from a place I have..." she let her voice drift. "But if someone is hunting the streets of Paris... perhaps a drive home by a handsome protector would be nice."

Burt nodded, "Beats being alone right now."

Nick set his coffee my down. "Let's go." He strode out the door without a backward glance.

Amanda donned her sunglasses and adjusted her chiffon scarf over her head, wrapping it once more about her neck before tossing the long ends so that they fell behind her. "Obviously my cue to leave." 

"Don't be a stranger!" Burt called as she left. Amanda waved one hand but did not turn to bid him _adieu_!

Once outside, Nick turned on her and growled, "Let's get this straight... I don't like you... I don't care about you... I really don't want anything to do with you... not anymore."

Amanda nodded. "Fine... I'll walk home." She started off down the street only to be restrained by Nick's hand. Angrily she twisted it off with long years of practice... but even as she did so... she seemed to regret the action. She let him go and backed off. "Sorry... force of habit."

"Amanda... there's a maniac out there killing us. That explosion last night was to cover up another death... one of us."

Amanda eyed him evenly. "Who?"

"An old Roman I met recently... Cassius Marcellus."

"Cassius? He's harmless... He's rather sweet in fact... Why would anyone want his head?"

"Because there can be only one," Nick said flatly.

"Oh."

"Did you forget that?"

"No..." Amanda folded her arms before her and shifted her weight to one side. "It's just that... Cassius has always been this sweet old man who listened to stories and never made judgments. He was never really in the game. He just was."

"Well they pulled a charred corpse out of the shell of his house early this morning... minus a head."

"I take it Burt still doesn't know..." her voice drifted off.

"No... and I really wish you wouldn't hang around here. Leave Paris Amanda... don't stay... not now." Nick wasn't certain why he cared... but he did... and that surprised him. But then... several things had surprised him recently.

"I take it you're trying to find out who is doing the killing?" Amanda asked. "Are you certain I can't help?"

"I don't need your help."

"I know people, Nick... other immortals in Paris who might be able to help. Hell! They are likely trying to find out the same things you are."

"Stay out of it Amanda. This one is mine... I owe David that much." Even as he said it, Nick realized that for the first time since becoming an immortal... he really did want to kill someone... take a head... feel the power of the quickening as it coursed through him. Oh, he'd taken a few heads... to survive... but he had never hunted one with the determination that even now was firming his resolve. David Maillot had not been his friend... but he had been his teacher. He had only just met Cassius Marcellus... but he'd eagerly hoped to see him again... talk to him... learn from him... tell him his story. Now... that would never happen.

"Fine... I was on my way to London, anyway!" Amanda turned sharply and headed once more up the street. Nick watched her go... and hoped she'd leave town... for her sake... for his. He turned sharply as he sensed someone behind him... but the feeling faded... and he saw no one there.


	37. Chapter 35

****

Chapter 35

Normandy, France

Methos had noticed the messages left by MacLeod... but he didn't dare return them... Not yet! He feared that Derrick... hearing him mention the Highlander's name might insist on talking with him. And for the moment... Methos would rather that MacLeod not know that Eleanor and Derrick were here in France. The fewer who knew... the better!

They hadn't checked out of the hotel so much as just left. With hats and dark glasses they'd gone down the service elevator and out into the parking area where he'd left his own non-descript car. Some of the luggage they'd left in the room... Phillip's stuff was there... as well as a few of the large bags. They carried only the essentials.

"We can buy anything we need... just don't leave anything behind that could identify any of us," he'd said.

Eleanor had winked at him as if to say, "Of course not!"

Derrick had groused a bit about sitting in the back seat alone... but had finally complied. Evidently he still was concerned about Eleanor being too far away from him., and he still stared at "Adam" sometimes suspiciously. Methos had driven swiftly and carefully through and out of Paris toward Normandy.

Phillip's call came in while they were still on the road. Methos pulled over and listened to what the Greek had found in the safety deposit box... then told him what to do with the contents. Next he sent him to the Federal Express Office to pick up a package that should be there... a package he'd been waiting on. "When you have it all... go see the Highlander," he said quietly... hoping Derrick would not pick up on the fact that he was speaking of MacLeod. "Tell him I'll be in touch soon. Help him, Phillip! Find this maniac before all of us are exposed to the world." He shut the phone off and stared at the road ahead. He felt Eleanor clasp his right hand softly... a reminder that whatever he was thinking... he wasn't alone.

Gratefully he raised her hand to his lips to give it a brief kiss as he winked at her with a smile. He gave her hand a squeeze glancing in the rearview mirror to meet Derrick's flat gaze. The boy was still suspicious... or was he jealous? Methos smiled at him over his shoulder, "Ready to go?" He shifted into drive as the boy nodded solemnly. Methos pulled out once more onto the road.

Less than an hour later, Methos pulled up beside an old stone church where once he had awaited the awakening of a decidedly dangerous Duncan MacLeod... suffering the effects of a dark quickening. He had wanted to be near holy ground in case there were any problems... but so far... they seemed to be alone. Methos parked near the church as the three of them got out.

Derrick grinned at the sight of the ocean, racing about with cries of glee and chasing the seagulls. After calling once for him to be careful, Eleanor had leaned back into Methos' encircling embrace.

"What made you think of this place?" she asked.

"MacLeod and I were here a few years ago. He'll understand the message I gave Phillip. Besides... I thought Derrick might enjoy the view of the ocean." He nodded at the boy laughing and running along the edge of the cliff.

Eleanor shivered slightly in the ocean breeze, despite Methos' warm arms about her. She reached up behind her and stroked his neck... feeling at once the tingle that went through her at the very core of who she was. She felt him lean down to brush the top of her hair with a kiss.

"Tell me something," he finally said. "If Darius had lived... would you have made the same choice... or did I win by default."

"Does it matter."

"It does to me."

Eleanor turned in his arms so that she faced him. "I have always loved you both. With you it was so easy... You'd smile and kiss me and I would follow where you led. But whenever we were together... there was always your final lesson between us... that if we stayed together... we might have to one day kill one another. I never wanted that... so I'd stay for only a little while. Or you'd see some new toy and you'd look elsewhere... as if afraid to trust how I felt."

"So you've said," he murmured thinking of the fight that had led him to finally tell her who he was.

"You were the one who first sent me to Paris... why?"

"To entice Darius out of the life he led there. Like this madman in Paris now... I feared Darius' remaining in one place too long would expose us."

"I did try. Without knowing that was what you wanted... I somehow knew it. But something always held him there... and I never knew why."

"Yet you always went back. You kept trying."

Eleanor laughed. "We had a connection. We both knew it... we just never acted on it. Not really. There was always a sadness in him that we..." she paused, biting her lip, then continued. "that _he_ had made other choices for his life... and that I was not a part of them. I think there were times he considered leaving with me. But he never did. And then, of course, there was Kae Dhun and that quickening I took. For a long time it wasn't safe for him to be off holy ground when I was nearby. His self-imposed exile became much more of a reality for a while. And once I was better..." Eleanor laid her cheek against Methos' chest, "the chance seemed to have passed us by. It never really came again."

"And if something of him is in Derrick?"

Eleanor lay one hand to one side of his face. "Derrick is not Darius. Darius is dead. Derrick is a little boy who may somehow have some of his memories... but he not Darius. Besides... I have chosen you... just as I did twelve hundred years ago when King Kenneth gave me the choice to marry whom I wished. That was the first time anyone ever gave me a choice about anything." Eleanor smiled at him, "This time, however, I know who I'm marrying... and I won't turn my back on you... nor close my heart to you... not as long as you want me with you."

He kissed her then... long and slow and deep... just the way he knew she had always liked. From the corner of his eye he glanced at the shrinking form of the boy. Methos looked up and whistled, gesturing for his return. He grinned. "Guess this is what it's like to have kids."

"Well... I always did want children," Eleanor laughed. "Why do you suppose it is we never have them?"

"Don't you think our lives are complicated enough?" he chuckled.

"Oh... they are... Still... children would be nice."

"We can always adopt."

Eleanor leaned back from him as a wide grin covered her face. "Didn't you tell me that once... a very long time ago?"

Methos arched his eyebrows. At that moment his cell phone rang once more. Sobering, he glanced at the number of the incoming call and then turned away. "I'm here," he said curtly.

Eleanor wandered toward the cliff edge closer to Derrick who had gathered a pile of small rocks and was trying to decide how best to throw them toward the pounding surf.

"Have you ever skipped stones?" Eleanor asked thoughtfully.

Derrick shook his head.

Eleanor glanced back at Methos still talking on his cell. She took Derrick by the hand. "Let's go down to the beach itself... I'll show you." She waved to catch Methos' attention, "Adam... we're going below!" Eleanor pointed to the path down the cliff. He raised his hand and nodded. Confident that he knew what she meant, Eleanor headed down the rocky path toward the ocean's edge with Derrick.


	38. Chapter 36

****

Chapter 36

London

Cassandra had not had any luck at the manor house the night before. Oh... she had found what was apparently the immortal's hidden access, but without a key code... she couldn't unlock the entry nor disarm the alarm system. Frustrated that she couldn't get in... yet elated that she'd apparently found what she sought... she'd left... quietly slipping through the darkness away from the house and its observers... observers she now felt were likely Watchers rather than law enforcement.

"_They've lost sight of him... whoever he is... and they hope to pick him up again if he returns_," she'd thought. What troubled her most about them... was that they were so obviously there. So few immortals knew of the Watchers... did this one know somehow? It was a puzzle.

Now... by daylight... she'd formulated a new plan. She'd have to bring Barlow back in. Perhaps he knew where she could get the kind of equipment necessary to crack the access code without setting off the alarms. Then he could watch her back... or watch the hovering Watchers while she searched the manor house for clues. Surely he would be happy to help... he'd been wanting to last night. He'd already called her cell once today and left a message.

Cassandra sipped her tea and considered exactly what to say to her young student that would keep him firmly on her side... subservient to her will... in thrall to her without having to resort to the voice. She needed to save that with him now until she needed to fight him... as she feared she might have to one day.

***********

__

Palestine, ca 900 b.c.e.

"My thanks," Xandra whispered to the old man handing her the choicest fruit from his basket in the market stall. She smiled and placed it within her own basket and continued her shopping. She liked this new "thing" she had learned. "_With it_," Lilith had told her, "_you need never fear what men may wish to do_." Xandra had reveled in the power of her "voice". She was finding it all too easy to use it to get what she wanted. Lilith had told her to practice it in small ways until she felt confident in it. "_Like your gift of prophecy, it has always been a part of you_," the Ancient had said. "_You just need to learn to develop it_." So Xandra was developing it.

It did not work on the old potter. He'd laughed and said he'd listened to the Ancient's voice far too many years to be susceptible to one just beginning. But others had been. One by one... Xandra had used the power on people of the village. One by one... they had done small things for her... sometimes as small as a simple smile.

Returning to the cave system with her basket of "gifts", Xandra saw the old one standing thoughtfully at the shore gazing out at the water. Her black hair and her great muddy brown cloak blew in the ocean breeze. Lilith leaned on her staff and seemed oblivious to Xandra's approach. 

"It is time for me to move on," she said at last. She gazed at Xandra sadly. "I have stayed too long in this place as it is. Be careful child with what I have taught you... they are your birthright... but they may also be your death if used wrongly. Prophecy used too often can lead to madness. If the gift of suggestion is used too often on a man... he may turn on you."

"How is it you know these things?" Xandra set the basket on the sands of the shore. Lilith laughed and pulled the crystal from her pack. As it glowed within her hands she stared thoughtfully... sadly at whatever she saw and then handed it to Xandra who gazed at the forms of the horsemen. Her eyes widened and hatred rose. Xandra could taste bile as she contemplated what she would one day do to them... what she could do to these men. Then something shifted about them... the face paint and the wild costumes seemed to fade so that she saw them in strange dress... clean-faced, their hair short... Kronos... with the scar through 

his right eye, Silas with his stupid grin, Caspian... she shivered in the heat... a maniacal gleam in his eye, and Methos... cold, calculating, betrayer of trust. Xandra hissed.

Lilith took the crystal from her hands. "You will one day find them again. Be certain when you do so... that you do not let your hatred rule the day. Change is the one constant of this world Xandra... and we who live so long... must remember that. We grow and change... or we die." Lilith wrapped the crystal in cloth and replaced it within her great satchel. "I go now..." and turning, she faded away into the rising mists of evening.

Behind her Xandra heard the chuckles of O ro' dred. "And she leaves as always... fading into the mists of time. One of these days I really must learn how she does that."

"Does she control the weather?" Xandra asked.

"Perhaps... or perhaps she only knows when the mists rise of their own accord and uses them to make her entrances and exits." The old potter shook his head. "I will be moving on as well in a day or so... You have learned all you can from me. It is time you find a proper teacher... one who will teach you what I cannot. Now then girl, what have you brought from the market for our dinner?"

*************

****

London

Cassandra mused over that last memory of Lilith. She'd had power... Cassandra was certain of it... but had the Ancient truly had all the power she seemed to have possessed? The old potter, O ro' dred, Cassandra had seen occasionally over the centuries... but Lilith? Never again had the Ancient deigned to greet her. Cassandra had heard legends in the centuries that followed... legends of a woman of magic who had green eyes... but she had smiled secretly at those legends... some of the tales might have been about her.

Her gift of prophecy had at long last led her to the Highlands... to await the coming of Duncan MacLeod... he whom she had seen would defeat a great evil. To Cassandra... there could be no greater evil than that of the horsemen. In the end, MacLeod had defeated them... all but Methos. He failed to see the danger that the betrayer was... but he would... one day he would... and Cassandra wanted to be there when he did. But since that time... since she had turned from him angrily... Cassandra had seen no further prophecies. With Lilith's crystal... perhaps her gift would return... and the way would be clear.

She sipped her tea once more and calmed her mind. She would call Barlow soon... arrange to meet him. They would plan their next attempt at the house... she would seduce him with smiles and comments about his abilities as a researcher. She would dress provocatively... she would scent her hair and oil her body... she would use the tricks women had been using for centuries on men... Hopefully it would be enough to keep him off-balance and agreeable until the job was done... and then? Cassandra sipped her tea once more... once Cassandra had the crystal... Nathan Barlow would no longer be necessary... he might, in fact, be a liability. 

***

On the far side of London, Nathan Barlow fumed. Cassandra had yet to contact him. Had she even gotten the message? Angrily he paced about his flat and considered calling her once more... He started to push re-dial... then paused. He did not wish to appear desperate... merely agreeable. Somehow... the longer he was involved in this mess... the more he did for her... the less she seemed to consider him... how he felt. It was as though everything was spiraling away from him... as though he was set on a path and had no choice but to follow. Nathan Barlow was tired of following.

Angrily he tossed his cell phone at the wall, listening as it gave a satisfying "_crash_" and then fell to the floor... broken. "Witch!" he screamed at the phone. Now what was he to do? Barlow stood very still and considered his options. He did not know where she was... he did not know how to contact her except by the cell phone number she'd given him... He could still call her... from another phone, but not right away. First... he needed to do a little more research into that property.

Grabbing his long coat and saber... he headed out the door. Time to take control of his own destiny.


	39. Chapter 37

****

Chapter 37

Ste. Genevieve

The convent school of _Ste. Genevieve_ was definitely a strange one, Alisaunne had decided. Oh the nuns she'd met were very much like the nuns at _Academie de Sacre Coure_, but it was the school itself that seemed so different. Alisaunne had the odd feeling that it was the children who were in charge in this place.

There were only five of them... the boy Ian was about her age, and the others ranged down to the wide-eyed four-year-old Denara... a child who lisped with a child's voice but who had attempted to console Alisaunne about her fears and the loss of her teacher.

Alisaunne was sitting in the flower garden listening to the music and just enjoying the natural beauty and quiet of this place.

Nearby she saw the giant of a man the others called Ursa, the bear. He didn't seem bear-like to Alisaunne... instead he seemed like a great child with a child's wonder at all he saw. Sometimes, as now, he stood near the stone wall of the chapel and sang Gregorian chants in a voice that might have been an angel's. His singing seemed to belong in this place.

Alisaunne had asked about newspapers, television, radios, and been told they had no place here. She had pouted slightly... for she had truly wanted to know if the man who had killed _Monsieur_ Maillot had been caught. Duncan... he'd told her to call him Duncan... had promised to return for her as soon as it was safe. Still, Alisaunne wondered why this place was safe and Paris wasn't. It was far too open here. She could see for miles in any direction.

The girl knew people would be worried about her. Duncan had said he would let the authorities know she was safe... but still Alisaunne wanted to be certain for herself that her friends and teachers were all right. For some reason she was worried that perhaps that madman had also killed someone else besides _Monsieu_r Maillot. Why else had Duncan and his friend spirited her safely out of the way.

A soft step on the grass made Alisaunne glance back at the approaching form of Ian. She grinned and flashed her best smile. Marisol and Lisabet would be so jealous that she had spent time with such a handsome young man.

"May I sit with you?" he asked in that lilting voice he had.

"Out of class already?"

"Oh... our hours here are a bit irregular sometimes." Ian sat beside her on the stone bench... facing back the way he had come. Alisaunne leaned back on her outstretched hands and continued to grin. "Are you flirting with me Alisaunne de Pres?"

"Maybe."

"Have you ever been kissed?"

Alisaunne's breath caught in her throat. "Now why would you be asking me that... Were you thinking of kissing me, Ian Daffyd." She kicked her feet out and crossed her ankles.

"I was thinking about it."

"Actions speak louder than words," she teased, then leaned toward him.

Gently he kissed her. Alisaunne thought she had never felt anything so special or so perfect in her life. "Nice," he said as he pulled away. "Have you done that before."

"No!" she grinned. "You were my first... didn't it show?"

"No." Ian shook his head.

"How many girls have you kissed?"

"None like you," Ian said honestly.

Nearby Ursa continued his chant... only adding to the magic of the moment. Then Ian leaned forward and a look of great sadness crossed his face.

"What's wrong?" Alisaunne wanted to know... wondering if she had said or done something to upset him.

"Just thinkin' about life and death," he said somberly. "What they are and what they mean... for all of us."

"You are far too young to be thinking of things like that!"

"Do you think so?"

"I do!" Alisaunne attempted to get him to smile and finally was rewarded. "Besides... it's too pretty a day to worry about such things."

Ian chuckled and grinned. "Aye... a pretty day it is, then, if you say so."

"I do!"

"You better watch with the 'I do's' or someone will be thinkin' you're sweet on someone."

"Maybe I am." Alisaunne took a deep breath refusing to let the memory of _Monsieur_ Maillot's death cast any shadows here. Her uncle had once told that life goes on... and that she should always face the future with a smile. She could barely remember him any more... she'd been so young when he died. But somehow... she seemed to remember things he had taught her... even if his face was no longer clear in her mind. Alisaunne did not even have a photo of her uncle... just her memories of his visits. So here she was, flirting a bit with a boy she hardly knew, while in Paris... _Monsieur_ Maillot lay dead... and Duncan MacLeod was off to find the killer.

Ursa stopped chanting and smiled at the young couple on the stone bench. Then he returned to his gardening... carefully weeding the small patch of wildflowers at the edge of one of Marie-France's natural plots. He missed the sister and hoped she would soon return. Before she'd left... Marie-France had warned him to be on guard against intruders. Ursa had nodded. He was always on guard against intruders. Matthias and Darius had told him that this was to be his place. He was to remain here and watch the small ones. He did not know why. Ursa did not care. He was here. It was a nice place. They let him garden. They let him sing. They asked nothing of him. Ursa was happy here.

He watched as Ian and the new girl walked back to the refectory hand in hand. The girl was different from the others. Ursa was not certain how she was different... but she was. He shrugged. It was no matter to him. He continued his weeding.

****

Paris

Duncan scrambled from his bed, instantly on alert... his _katana_ in his hand. He'd driven most of the night and had returned here only by mid-morning. Methos had still not returned his calls so, as he'd needed to catch a few hours sleep, he'd dropped into his bed still clothed.

An immortal was outside... on the barge. There was a quiet knock on his door. Two raps... a pause... one rap.

"Who's there?" the Highlander called out. The raps were repeated as if whoever it was did not wish to say. "Come in." Duncan held his _katana_ at the ready... cautiously expectant. The door slowly opened and Phillip, his hair and beard dyed black... dressed in black stood at the entrance. Duncan eyed him curiously. "You look a bit different than the last time I saw you," he finally said.

The Greek looked at him thoughtfully and then rubbed his beard and chuckled. "Little Sister's idea when we took a flight over... I'd forgotten." He scratched at his chin. "At least she let me keep part of the beard."

Duncan circled warily. "A witness described the immortal who killed David Maillot and Cassius Marcellus... the description fits you perfectly. Where are Derrick and Ellie?"

"Safe... for the moment. Methos is with them... He asked me to come and see you... help you."

"Ever have any run-in's with an immortal named Kenny?"

Phillip threw back his head and laughed. "The boy-man! Had a run-in with him recently when I was last here. Let him live, again. One of these days I will kill that boy!"

"Get in line."

"He described me as I am now?" Phillip asked curiously. "He must have seen me about town yesterday. But then he must have seen..." Phillip was suddenly silent. "Wonder why I didn't sense him lurking about?"

"He's rather sneaky sometimes... maybe he was out of range and just watching. Now... why are you here exactly? How does Methos think you can help me?" Duncan returned his _katana_ to its display stand but stood near it... just in case what Kenny had told him was the truth. After all... he only had Phillip's word that he came from Methos. "I've left him several messages."

"So I gather." Phillip held out a package and a letter. "The package was something Methos had sent here from your place in Seacouver. He said to tell you to keep it with you... He thinks a clue may be there. The letter... well... the letter is from Darius. We found the safety deposit box."

Duncan took both and looked in the opened package first. "Darius' _Les Miserable_! How did he get that... surely Joe is still in the hospital."

Phillip shrugged. "He didn't say. Just told me to pick it up."

Duncan turned the letter over in his hand. "You didn't open it?"

"Wasn't addressed to me. I did open the one that was. I may share it with you later. There were also letters for Methos and Eleanor. I haven't opened them either." Phillip shrugged and motioned to a chair. "Mind if I sit?"

"No... go ahead," Duncan said as he tore open the envelope to read the letter.

__

Duncan,

If you are reading this letter, my friend, then two things have happened. I have died and you have met one of my oldest friends. He will tell you who he is himself when he is ready. I ask only that you listen to him and to what he has to tell you. You may find that he has a perspective on life that you have never considered.

I do not say that I necessarily agree with his perspective, but it has always been a valid counterpoint to my own. As to whether you should trust him? That my friend I leave to your decision.

Many years ago I began collecting objects and documents from around the world. Many you have seen in my room at the church. Most you have never seen. As I collected these gifts sent to me by others, I began to see in them a pattern, a connection that might offer a clue to our shared past. For what seems like centuries I have studied and tried to find the answers, but at last I am ready to admit defeat. There may be no answers.

I intend to leave my life here. I am ready to go. If all goes well, I will simply vanish from sight and fade into another life in another place. Yet if you are reading this, then I have died since leaving Paris. I do not wish the work I have spent my life on to be lost. I leave it for you and my other dearest friends to solve the puzzle that I could not solve.

Where first we met, there was a small chapel. It still exists. Go there. The answers you seek are there.

Go in peace, my friend,

Darius

Duncan looked up somberly. At the Battle of Waterloo... there had been a small chapel on a nearby estate. Darius had performed a mass there after the Battle, for survivors of both sides. He had spoken of peace and brotherhood. It was one of the moments of Duncan's life that had touched him deeply as French and English survivors alike had sat within that small chapel and about the grounds. Most were wounded, most were initially distrustful of one another... and at the end... most had reached a calm compromise for their lives. It was then that Duncan had followed Darius to Paris as soon as he'd been free of his service. He'd wanted to know more. He'd wanted the peace that the immortal priest projected to be a part of his own life. Duncan closed his eyes and sighed. How he had failed Darius! The peace Darius had offered had always eluded him. 

Could now, from beyond the grave, Darius' spirit be reaching out to complete the unfinished work of his life? Could he still be helping those he cared for to find peace? He handed the letter to Phillip, then he pulled _Les Miserables_ from the package as he sat down in a chair opposite the Greek. "I gather by the friend he mentions who has the different perspective he was meaning Methos and not you." Carefully he thumbed through the book.

Phillip shrugged, "Perhaps. It's vague enough it could have been any of us." Phillip handed the letter back after reading it.

"And his to you."

"Basically to help Methos, keep an eye on Eleanor, and become a friend to you. Things I've done anyway. He and I usually understood one another over the years. We didn't necessarily agree with one another... but we did understand."

"After you gave his sword back?" Duncan smiled, a bit teasingly.

"Ah yes... that damn thing. Plays hell with one's mind!" Phillip leaned back in the chair and scratched at his shaven jawline where his full-beard had been trimmed into a goatee. "Can't say I miss being around that thing!"

"So... where is Methos?"

"He said to tell you where you once considered taking his head on holy ground. Once we've dealt with this madman... we could find him there. He thought you might need help finding this immortal... that I should help."

"Why didn't he stay?" Duncan was a bit testy about this sudden change in plans, as much from not being consulted as from the change itself.

Phillip met his gaze evenly. "I think he needed to spend time with Eleanor and Derrick. I think it is only with his help that Eleanor may finally unlock Derrick's strange memories. The boy was worse after we left you in Seacouver. That whole shooting scene really traumatized him. I sought Cassandra's help to settle his mind, and Methos felt that was a mistake on my part."

Duncan nodded, "Cassandra has no love for Methos."

"But I never mentioned his involvement... or yours either for that matter. Still... I evidently did say some things I shouldn't have."

"What things?"

"Nothing I care to repeat at this time." Phillip shifted his feet. "Now then... first things first. What do we know about this 'Paris Slasher" as he's being called?"


	40. Chapter 38

****

Chapter 38

Normandy, France

On the sandy beach, which bordered the wide Atlantic, Eleanor showed Derrick how to skip stones. For the boy... being so near so much water at once seemed a marvel... and the thought of making stones skip across the incoming waves seemed a game that was at once new and yet strangely familiar.

Carefully he selected the flattest stones as she showed him and holding them level between his thumb and forefinger... attempted to sling them forward until instead of dropping into the water... the flat stone would bounce and hop as hers did.

Derrick had not felt so relaxed and happy in days.

As if she too were but a child... Eleanor clapped her hands and jumped up and down beside him when he finally got the hang of this new activity. Then... sensing an immortal's approach she backed away from him slightly thinking that Methos had come down the cliff path to join them.

But it wasn't Methos.

Approaching along the beach was a dark-haired woman in a long black trenchcoat that blew about her in the wind. Her long dark hair blew about her head and she gazed at Eleanor coldly... haughtily.

Eleanor stuffed her hands into the pockets of the overlarge jacket she wore and glanced about the beach for other signs of activity. On the cliff above... from the direction the woman immortal had came, Eleanor saw for one brief instant the glare of sunlight on glass. Binoculars? Watcher? Eleanor slowly approached the woman... attempting to stay firmly between her line of sight and Derrick.

"Carmen Mendoza," the stranger said flatly. She peered over Eleanor's shoulder. "Raising a child? Or a future lover?" she grinned with a leer, then her voice changed harshly, "Or a sacrifice?"

Eleanor remained quiet. "_Show nothing! Say nothing! Gather your resources to move at the last moment! Betray nothing of who or what you are!_" Methos' and Phillip's teachings rambled in her mind. Derrick was the first priority here. Getting him away from this woman safely was what Eleanor had to focus on... not the woman's taunts. She still wore the reflective aviator sunglasses that she'd put on earlier in the day, but she had replaced the auburn wig with a baseball cap... her dark hair tucked up under it. In jeans, sneakers, and the oversize jacket... she could pass as a boy at a distance. But up close? Carmen Mendoza had already determined Eleanor's true sex.

"Quiet aren't you? Perhaps I shall raise the boy when I've taken your head. Or perhaps I'll just kill him and move on..." Carmen's voice was teasing... but it had a dark undertone that told Eleanor that the woman was serious. "Or use him... as I was used... as I was taught." The final words were clipped, filled with pain and betrayal.

Eleanor took a deep breath. "This is neither the time nor the place for a confrontation." She backed away from the female... closer to Derrick who she could still hear behind her... still intent on his rock skipping. 

"Oh... let me guess... He has no idea what you are? Then he will learn and learn now!"

"People could see us here."

"Who? I walk here daily... I never see anyone about!" She gestured up and down at the empty beach.

"Then you are a fool! Even now someone watches you from the cliff." Eleanor moved again... still attempting to stay between Carmen and Derrick. Behind her Derrick was suddenly quiet... he had to have noticed Carmen. Eleanor pulled one hand from her jacket pocket and put it behind her... motioning with her fingers for Derrick to be careful and to stay back... away from her... not to approach her. Then she motioned for him to start carefully toward the path... but to stay behind her. Already she was warming up... a thousand small stretches that would let her move suddenly and without warning. 

"And you are a liar! There is only us... and I'm in the mood for a little dance." Carmen drew her sword... a Spanish dueling sword... suitable for her tall lithe frame. She cast off her coat with a shrug... revealing a dancer's lithe body as she stepped lightly back and forth... from one foot to the other. 

"Dance?" Eleanor breathed and smiled. Eleanor knew many dances... and small as she was... she could dance very well. She continued to shift... hoping that Derrick was still behind her... that he had gotten the message. She did not dare look away from this woman... and the Watcher... if that is what it was... on the cliff worried her. How much could he see?

Suddenly, as if suddenly realizing that the boy was nearing the path... Carmen shifted her own position and pulled a throwing dagger. Expertly she balanced it for only a moment... feinted to her right and then threw the dagger at the form of the retreating boy.

Reading her perfectly... Eleanor launched herself into the path of the dagger... feeling it enter her chest above her heart and bury itself deeply into her left lung. She coughed as she fell and rolled... spitting up blood. She had always healed slowly when injured... as if her long life before ever having taken a quickening had rendered her vulnerable... but she knew if she passed out... if she died even if for only a moment... Derrick would die... and she would lose her head.

With a determined motion she pulled the knife from her chest and stood up... she could still taste blood and a red haze seemed to cover her eyes.

"Ellie!" Derrick called from behind her.

"Stay back!" she managed to get out before coughing blood once more and stumbled. "_Never let your opponent see your true ability! Always show weakness until you strike!_" The knife fell from her numb fingers. She straightened as Carmen lunged at her with a feral grin.

Swiftly Eleanor shifted her weight and turned so that she was for a moment back to back with the other immortal. She leaned into her and locked her left arm... despite the wrenching pain... around Carmen's sword arm and pulled... nearly falling into the darkness that passed before her eyes. Only her determination to protect Derrick kept her moving. With that pull... Carmen faltered and her grip on her sword loosened. Eleanor jumped into the air... dragging the other with her and completed the turn... so that the sword flew out of Carmen's hand and into Eleanor's right.

As she turned... she had a brief glimpse of Methos pulling Derrick into his arms and turning his back to the women to shield the boy. _He was safe!_

Unable to stop... submitting to both motion and gravity, Eleanor finished the turn and the downward movement of the sword. It was with a sense of surprise that she felt the slight resistance across Carmen's neck as the dancer's head was severed.

Carmen's body fell. Eleanor wavered on her feet a moment and then let the pain and darkness of her injury take her... Derrick was safe. That was the only thing that truly mattered. Her knees buckled and she collapsed onto the sand. Her last conscious sensation was the crackle of the quickening as it overwhelmed her... filling her and reviving her. Within her mind she saw the short and sad life of Carmen Mendoza... killed by a jilted lover... mistreated by a monstrous teacher who took delight in killing her for sport... in raping her for his own pleasure. Carmen had been lost and alone in a life that did not seem to offer any respite. It was only chance that she had escaped him recently. Perhaps a final death was all the dancer had truly wanted... an end to the horror of her all-too-brief life. Eleanor wanted to weep.

***

Methos... having finished his phone call was about to descend to the beach when he had sensed Carmen's approach. Pell mell he had raced down the path but had arrived only in time to shield the boy from the sight of the beheading. As the quickening rose and crackled along the beach... blasting some sections of sand into glass forms, Methos could just see a figure about a half mile away... watching. Had the Watcher recognized _him_? Perhaps not. As the lightning faded he ran to Eleanor and scooped her into his arms. "Follow me now!" Methos called to the boy as he began to race up the path toward their car. 


	41. Chapter 39

****

Chapter 39

Seacouver

Amy Brennan-Thomas stood outside of Joe Dawson's room, tapping her fingers absently on her arms. She'd done as he asked and checked into the activities in Paris... both the public ones and the immortal ones. Now she wondered how much she should tell her father. If she held anything back... would he know?

Through the small window in the door she could just see him inside talking with that woman doctor from last night. Dr. Anne Lindsey if Amy's memory served correctly. A friend the doctor had said... but a quick glance through the database had revealed that Anne Lindsey wasn't just a friend... she was the former lover of Duncan MacLeod.

Amy had never met the Highlander... all she knew about him was from the Chronicles. But she did know that it was for a chance to get to know the Scotsman that Joe Dawson had first broken Watcher protocol... His own comments in MacLeod's Chronicle said it all..."_A man of honor and integrity. If there can be only one at the end, I hope it will be a man like Duncan MacLeod_."

Within the room, it looked as if Dr. Lindsey was bidding farewell. Amy took a beep breath and carefully applied a cheerful smile as she reached to open the door.

"Dr. Lindsey... how nice to see you again." Amy's voice was carefully upbeat and pleasant.

"Amy... I was just assuring Joe that he's doing well. If he keeps this up he may be discharged tomorrow... if he has someone at home to help." Anne flashed Amy a genuine smile... glad to see that the young woman had returned for another visit. While she knew Joe would likely have a home nurse... she hoped that she was at least opening the way for Amy to stay in Seacouver and assist her father's recovery.

"That's wonderful, doctor." Amy crossed to Joe's side and leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek. If she thought she was fooling anyone... it certainly wasn't Joe, who gave her a bit of a snort, but said nothing aloud.

"Well... I'll see you tomorrow, Joe. You too Amy, if you are about." Anne shifted the chart in her hands... wanting to say more... but then decided against it. She left.

"I don't think you fooled her, either," chuckled Joe to his daughter. "Now, what did you learn?"

"I probably shouldn't tell you anything... it might upset you... delay your recovery. I _do_ want you to recover." Amy argued as she pulled up a chair.

"Not knowing is upsetting me. What have you got?"

Amy let out a large breath and then pulled out the folder of papers she had printed up... news stories, photos, Paris Chronicle information... all she had been able to find using Joe's computer at the bar and his passwords. "I really think I shouldn't, but here it is."

Joe thumbed through the pages. "No one has a fix on this immortal yet?"

"The council has everyone checking in to be certain no one has lost their assignment. Other than male, dressed in black, big... we have little to go on. Whoever this maniac is... he seems to have arrived in Paris recently... and been on a tear for the past few days... killing mortals and immortals alike."

"Which immortals?" Joe asked, the concern obvious in his voice.

"A French dueling teacher named David Maillot, and a recluse that some say may have been Cassius Marcellus."

"Marcellus? How did he get to him?"

"That was the explosion... no one seems to know. The Watcher on him had left for the evening. The old man never goes out... he seldom has visitors. Someone got... sloppy." Amy shrugged.

"How did we get the description?" Joe wanted to know.

"The Watcher on Kenneth... he saw the boy meet with MacLeod who had been missing for a day. The Watcher overheard the boy give the description to MacLeod."

"Mac's in Paris?"

"He and Methos have been there since the day after you were shot. Basically they've been holed up on the barge... but MacLeod did go to see someone at the school where the second attack later took place. After the attack... he was visited by a schoolgirl. The Watcher then lost him."

"Lost him?" Joe's face was reddening. Amy sought to calm him down.

"Evidently Methos misdirected the Watcher to a hospital... told him MacLeod was taking the girl there. They never arrived."

"And Methos?"

"Went into the barge... and vanished." Amy shrugged with a knowing little smile.

"Yeah... he's good at that. Anyone found him yet?"

Amy shook her head.

"And MacLeod?"

"He had a visitor this morning... male... dressed in black... big fellow... the Watcher didn't get a good look at him."

Joe swallowed. "And?"

"No one there now."

Joe relaxed physically in the bed... but his mind was going like a freight train. Mac and some unknown immortal... together... a missing schoolgirl... Methos vanishing? Did this mean the unknown immortal who visited Mac was a friend or an enemy? Had they left to fight? Were they working together? No... if Mac and this immortal had gone to fight... Mac wouldn't have shrugged off his Watcher... Besides... Joe knew Kenny had no love for the Highlander... like as not he'd give him a bad description just to throw him off.

"Has Kenny had any run-in's with anyone since he surfaced in Paris?" he finally asked.

"I checked... an unknown bearded immortal who left him alive and Nick Wolfe." Amy nodded at Joe's reaction. "It was Nick's Watcher who reported things... he wasn't really close enough to get a good look at the immortal... big man, bearded, brown hair. He was very good. The Watcher didn't recognize Kenny at the time until he turned his report in."

"Anything else?"

Amy sat quietly for a moment. "Nick Wolfe's Watcher reported he was spending time with a schoolgirl."

Joe looked at her quizzically, "Same one?"

Amy shrugged. "The details are... sketchy." Should she tell him Methos had asked her help to pull Wolfe's Watcher for a day or so? Amy fingered her ring... carefully pulling it off and on... turning it about on her finger. Then... as if realizing it might be telling Joe too much about her state of mind... she carefully folded her hands in her lap.

"Joe continued to flip through the pages in the folder. "Who else is in Paris."

Amy held her breath. "Amanda," she finally said. "She's the only recent arrival we are aware of. There are about a dozen immortals living in Paris these days."

"Has Amanda met up with MacLeod?"

"Not so we know."

Joe continued thinking. Finally he looked evenly at his daughter. "Amy... I need you to go to Paris and keep this under your hat. If the Council asks... tell them I asked you to check on MacLeod's whereabouts for me." He was relieved to see Amy nod. Joe took a deep breath... ignoring the minor pain from his healing gunshot wounds, "Now this is what I want you to do..."


	42. Chapter 40

****

Chapter 40

Paris

Listening to Liam Riley and Marie-France discuss immortality and religion was a big bore. All Valeraine wanted to do was to leave and see just how she could assist young Nick. He was so young and so innocent... she doubted he really knew what he was up against. Valeraine sat pouting in a chair in Liam's office and glared at the others.

"... and then of course there is the whole business of salvation," Liam was saying. "I believe it so for them... but sometimes I wonder if any of this really applies to us."

"There is atonement." Marie-France held a mug of hot tea between her hands and smiled at the young priest. "For all we have done as immortals... all the killing... all the mayhem... all that which we did thinking human law did not apply to us... For all that... there is atonement."

Liam leaned back in his chair to regard her carefully. "Now what could you have ever done to have to atone for?"

Marie-France smiled. "You'd be surprised." But she said nothing further.

Valeraine stamped her foot and stood to pace about the room. "Aren't either of you worried. That boy hasn't the first clue how to survive! Until we came along... he didn't even carry his sword!"

"Nick is more than capable, Val. He was a cop in the States. He knows investigative procedures... he has mortal contacts. We'd only be liabilities," Liam tried to reassure her.

"We are better off staying here... until he discovers something," Marie-France added softly. "But we are every bit as worried about him as you are. I would worry about any of us in the outer world."

All three looked up as they felt someone enter the old church. Valeraine ran to the door and flung it open despite Liam's warning.

There in the nave was a young woman... well, a young-looking woman... an immortal... well dressed. Valeraine felt Liam's hands on her small shoulders. "Amanda!" he called out. "What a surprise!"

Liam headed out to give the new arrival a brotherly hug. Valeraine sensed Marie-France behind her. "So that's Amanda," Valeraine whispered, and regarded the woman darkly.

***

Amanda had returned to her flat ready to just leave. She'd re-packed her bag, re-covered the furniture, locked the door and pocketed the key. She couldn't even fathom why she had come to Paris. After placing her bag in the boot of the _Ferrari_. She'd decided there was one person she needed to see. She needed to talk to Liam... maybe from his perspective she could discover the source of her _malaise_... her inability to think clearly or to act on the decisions she did make.

With her mind made up, she'd climbed into the car and was just turning on the ignition when she felt the unmistakable buzz of a nearby immortal. Glancing about... she saw no one. Was someone watching her? Someone with a long life-line? Amanda had shifted into drive as she decided that visiting Liam Riley now had a double reason... holy ground... at least until she knew who was hanging around.

Now standing in the twelfth century church and greeting her young friend she was startled by the presence of the other two women. "I'm sorry... am I interrupting something?" She laughed as if she had somehow made a _faux pas_.

"Don't be silly, Amanda. This is Marie-France and her young ward Val."

The little girl glared at her.

Amanda smiled indulgently. "Somehow I don't think young is quite the right word for you," she said to the girl immortal.

"I'm older than Marie-France." The blonde girl turned and walked quietly back into Liam's office.

The woman smiled at Amanda. "Please... forgive her... She is concerned about a friend of ours."

"Anyone I know?" Amanda turned so that her gaze took in Liam, who nodded.

"Nick Wolfe," the priest said.

"Nick's fine... I saw him at _Sanctuary_ a few hours ago. Besides, he's not one to want anyone's help... with anything." Amanda's flippant tone belied the hurt she'd felt when he'd told he didn't want or need her help. "He's determined to find this 'Slasher' person on his own."

The pained expression on Marie-France's face as she turned to follow Val into Liam's office told Amanda a great deal. 

Amanda bit her lip and turned to Liam. "Look... Liam... I came to talk to you about Nick... about what I did to him and how he still feels about it. If you think Nick needs back-up say so. He'll have my help whether he wants it or not. I owe him."

"I think it would be a good idea. I'm not in the game anymore and neither of them is either... Well," he said with a small smile, "Val is in the game but I think Nick was worried that she'd be hurt... killed."

"Has he met MacLeod, yet?"

"I don't think so. MacLeod hasn't been in Paris too much these last few years, not that I would have seen him anyway."

"Well he's here now. I ran into him on my way here. Maybe it's time those two met." Amanda shrugged. "Maybe MacLeod could give Nick a little different view of me than the one he still carries."

Liam chuckled and nodded.

Replacing her dark glasses, Amanda gave a little wave and headed out the door. "Toodles!" she called as she exited.

Liam shook his head. He adored Amanda... but she definitely had her own way of doing everything.

Outside, Amanda headed to the car... pausing as she felt someone nearby. "She glanced around. Again... there was no one there. She tried to focus on the source of the annoying tingle but could not seem to find it. The buzz was before her and behind her... almost as if there was more than one immortal stalking her. "I know you're there," she called out. "Come out and talk... surely we can discuss this... whoever you are." Beneath her coat she fingered her narrow blade, shifting her shoulders and her weight as she tried to warm up. But the presence faded and was gone. 

Amanda let out a deep breath. She needed to see MacLeod. Duncan would know how to handle this. Duncan always knew how to handle things like this. Thoughtfully she climbed into the _Ferrari_ and drove off toward where his barge was usually parked.

***

Behind her, a shadow detached from the greater shadow of a nearby building and a low chuckle sounded. Then the shadow faded back into the other shadows and continued to watch the church. Perhaps what he was searching for was here after all... Why else would there be so much interest in Darius' old church? The sound of a growl escaped him before he carefully stifled it. Thoughts of what the one-time general and his friends had done to him made him want to strike out at them now! Raggedly he brought his breathing under control. He must be patient. He had learned patience. Darius had seen to that. If the one he sought were here... no power on earth... no mere _rule_... would stop him! If she were here... the rule of holy ground would be broken... as it had been broken once before.

He thrust one hand into his pocket... but he was out of snacks. Perhaps it was time to get some more.


	43. Chapter 41

****

Chapter 41

Using a bit of subterfuge... Duncan and Phillip... after gathering a number of things from the barge that might be helpful had made their quiet and unobtrusive exit from the watchful gaze of Duncan's current Watcher. They'd slipped quietly into a small boat and glided silently up the Seine until they could safely dock a short distance away. After tying up the small boat... they'd headed up onto the _quai_ and slipped out of sight from the Watcher's possible gaze.

Once away from the area, they had stuck to side streets and small alleys as they made their way across Paris. Finally certain they had no tail, they'd headed for the _Hotel de Montcalm_. "We can use that as a base until we find out something." Phillip had suggested.

"We could use Methos' help hacking into the database."

"We may not need to call him. Besides, he may not be in any position to help with anything for a while."

"On the road." Duncan murmured.

"Likely... as I said... I don't know where they were actually headed... just that when you needed him... when this was over... he would be where you could find him." 

"Before we left Seacouver, he told me you were seeing Ellie and Derrick to someplace safe... what happened to change that?"

"Oh... we always planned to exchange duties after a while... even if for only a few days. He and Eleanor still had something to work out." Phillip shrugged, not wanting to mention that whatever it was had pretty much traumatized young Derrick last night. "Anyway... they needed more time than he thought... and then after the explosion... he figured you might need some help... so here I am... your help." Phillip chuckled.

Not far from the hotel both men paused... sensing someone in the shadows. Phillip stepped back and carefully gazed up and down the street while Duncan, after checking to be certain no mortal was about, pulled his sword. "I am Duncan MacLeod!" he called out, issuing his challenge. At first there was nothing.

Then from the shadows, Kenny appeared. "I'm not after you MacLeod."

Duncan smiled, "No... but maybe I should be after you."

"Have you seen him... the immortal who killed the old Roman? The one who killed all those mortals?"

Duncan smiled. "I've seen the man you described to me, but somehow I don't think he's the one who did the killing."

Phillip stepped out of the shadows. He stood easily... no sign of his sword about him. "Hello lad... still wanting that fight with me?"

"Don't trust him MacLeod! He's a killer!" Kenny backed away eyeing them both with distrust.

"Oh I am that lad... but I've let you live twice now... Are you so certain you want to attempt to take my head a third time."

"He lies MacLeod... He's been after me for years!"

"Kenny, Kenny, Kenny," smiled Duncan sarcastically, "I have a feeling if he wanted you dead... you'd be dead!"

"Run along lad before I change my mind!" Phillip roared.

Kenny turned to leave, "Calling over his shoulder. Don't say I didn't warn you MacLeod!" Then he vanished into the gathering gloom of early evening.

Duncan replaced his _katana_ in the lining of his coat. "Do I have to worry about you?" he asked the Greek with an arch of his eyebrow betraying his amusement.

"Not unless you attack me," Phillip grinned genially and clapped one arm about the Highlander's shoulders. "I make it a habit not to take heads unless I'm attacked. Now let's see if we can manage to vanish again before young Kenny's Watcher has a clue about who we are and where we are headed."

"I may have blown that with the challenge I uttered!"

"Well I have tried to tell you it is not always a good idea to be dropping your name to every immortal you meet. You'll note the lad does not know my name."

"Nor do I," Duncan agreed, shaking off Phillip's arm, "not really."

"Then that is how it should be. We all live in the shadows MacLeod. Or at least those of us with long life-lines do. That is how we survive. You should learn this."

"That's not who I am."

"No... then maybe it's who you should be if you wish to survive." Phillip said nothing further as they continued to make their way through back alleys and over roofs until they reached the hotel. Avoiding the security cameras with ease... the two immortals entered the fourth floor suite.

Duncan gave an appreciative look around at the room. "Nice digs."

"Yeah... Methos likes to do it up right when he gets the chance. I think he hoped to have several days here before we moved on. Two bedrooms this time..." Phillip winked. "I told him no more couches for me."

The Greek pulled a small bag from beneath the sofa, opened it, pulling out a laptop. "This one was Eleanor's... Methos left it here for us to use. He updated the game on it that Derrick and he were playing. Also... Eleanor has links on it to the Watcher database. We might find what we need without his help."

Duncan settled at the table with the items they had brought from the barge spread out around him. "Nice of him to leave it. I noted he'd evidently taken mine with him while I was gone."

"Likely being thorough. It may be here. If not... it's with him. I don't think he even wanted to leave this one... but it's password encrypted and I do know the passwords." Phillip typed some commands into the laptop and booted it up... then entered the codes. "See... now we can start our search." He turned the laptop toward MacLeod who began searching through the Watcher records seeking any clue that might help them find the unknown immortal. 

***

Below on the street... just out of sensing range... Kenny eyed the hotel... trying to determine just which room MacLeod and the "Swordmaster" might be in. It had been a tough break that his subterfuge hadn't worked. He'd hoped MacLeod might attack the "Swordmaster" on sight and that one of them would have died. It would mean one less of Kenny's enemies alive and kicking. Of course... the survivor might have been more powerful than ever... but every immortal made a mistake one time or another. All Kenny had to do was to wait. Either one of their quickenings could help make Kenny more powerful than his wildest dreams... powerful enough to really be the final one. The problem was in managing to work the odds into his favor. If he couldn't get them to fight each other... he needed to get them to fight someone. And then when they were down... when they were recovering from the effects of the quickening... he could take his pleasure. But he had to separate them... If they weren't going to fight one another he needed to be certain they were alone when they did fight someone.

Thoughtfully Kenny settled in to watch the hotel. It might be a very long night.


	44. Entr'acte Two

****

Entr'acte

__

Arabian Peninsula, ca. 930 b.c.e.

Old Mother was dead.

Quite out of character, she had at last after nearly sixty years of slavery within the Horseman's Camp, defied Kronos. And Kronos had killed her as calmly and as efficiently as he would have brushed aside an overhanging branch if it were in his way.

Methos removed his cloak, wrapping her body within it as he lifted her remains into his strong arms to carry off. Near him Silas was bawling and Caspian was silent and brooding... each was mourning the old woman in his own way.

"Leave her!" Kronos said, casually wiping the blood from his sword.

"And let her body rot in the midst of this camp and draw carrion?" Methos snorted. "I think not." He strode purposely out of the camp and down into a nearby dry ravine where Old Mother had recently told him water had once flowed.

"It is the most powerful of all the elements," she'd cackled as she handed him a small stone. "Water has the power of life... water can cover the earth and quench fire. Water is."

"What about the wind Old Mother? What power over wind does water have?" He'd chuckled... wondering at what she would have to say.

She'd grinned at him as she'd stood, holding the bundle of firewood she'd gathered in her bony arms, "Oh... wind may ruffle the waves... but water is deep and for the most part... simply ignores the wind. It passes you know. The wind is the agent of change... earth endures... fire rages... but water can cover them all." She'd headed back to the camp then. Was that only a few days ago?

Methos had remained sitting in the ravine that day, troubled by her words and wondering why they struck a chord within him. Now he laid her body to one side and began digging a shallow grave... scooping out the dry sandy soil. She was dead and it was all he could do for her. He would not leave her to the vultures or the scavengers... he would bury her in the earth in a place to which water might one day return.

"That pebble was once a mountain," she'd said that day. That was what had started the conversation. She was always starting conversations with him that seemed to be more than small talk. He had always liked to listen to her. Even when she was young, and first captured in a raid, she'd made him think.

For a moment he saw her as he had first seen her, a small dark-haired girl with strange green eyes. They occasionally saw women with green eyes in this land where eyes were mostly brown. The immortal slave Cassandra had possessed green eyes. But this girl was mortal. At first she'd seemed so small and frightened that Methos had decided she'd barely last a week among them.

But the girl had endured. She'd moved without complaint among them... at first simply something to be used and tossed aside. Quietly she submitted to Kronos enduring and accepting whatever demands he made on her. But with Caspian she'd learned to calm his rages and headaches... holding his head in her small lap and whispering to him... giving him brews that helped him sleep. Silas she bossed... reminding him to pick up after himself... as if she were some sort of big sister who was watching over him. The site of the tiny mortal girl telling the huge Silas what to do had always been amusing to the other horsemen. But when she was with Methos she had simply been... sometimes telling stories or somehow parables that mirrored his own thoughts and confusions. Lying with him in the night... she had told wondrous tales that had ignited his imagination.

Ever since the debacle with Cassandra... Methos had been torn between remaining and wanting to move on. Cassandra had re-awakened within him that memory of older days... long before he'd joined his fate to Kronos and the others. He'd moved through this immortal life without friends and attachments... afraid to remain too long in one spot... lonely... always searching for something. When he'd found Kronos... or Kronos had found him... what the other offered was a brotherhood and a belonging that would span the centuries. Friendship that would endure! Yet... as the centuries passed... Methos had begun to despair even of this existence. Cassandra's presence here had brought it to a head. He had betrayed her to ensure his own survival... but the memory of that betrayal remained with him and he began to spend more and more time alone.

It was then that green-eyed girl had been captured. Silas gave her the name Mynishka... green-eyed woman... it was all the name she had ever needed among them. Instinctively she seemed to know how to survive each of her captors. She offered only what each of them needed or expected. As she aged... it was those qualities that had kept her with them. For Kronos she ran the camp and kept the other slaves in line so that they were all quiet and submissive and serving him. For Caspian she was the only one who could ease the strange passions and terrors in his mind. For Silas she was his mother... and in time that is what he called her... forgetting the first name so that she was Old Mother... the white-haired crone who kept him in line. And to Methos she became a teacher. It had been years since any of them had taken her to their bed. Yet, she was a part of them all.

Methos laid her body in the depression he'd dug... still wrapped in his cloak. He did not wish her to lie only in the earth. She should have some dignity in death. He opened the cloak and straightened her limbs... carefully folding her arms over her chest and hiding the wound where Kronos' sword had entered. Behind him he felt Silas approach. The giant held out some flowers he had gathered.

"She liked flowers Methos. She should have flowers on her final journey," the big man said sadly. He was like a child sometimes... Methos wondered if he even understood the ramifications of what they as the horsemen did... or if it was all simply a child's game to him. Methos accepted the flowers and placed them in Old Mother's dead hands... wishing he too had some gift to leave with her. But he had nothing.

"Where's Caspian?"

"Slashing away at something or other. I think he is having one of the fits he sometimes has."

Methos nodded. Caspian wouldn't come. Nor would Kronos. He was likely too busy with his latest acquisition anyway. Why had Old Mother defied him? What had she hoped to gain by dying in this way?

Methos re-covered her with his now bloody cape so that no earth would fall into her face when he buried her, and with Silas' help re-filled the grave. Gathering what rocks they could find to prevent scavengers from digging up her body, they worked through the afternoon and into the evening. At last it was done. The sun sank into a reddened horizon and long shadows began to cover the earth. He had no words nor prayers nor songs for her. She was a non-entity that had briefly touched their lives and was now gone... and yet...

The immortal who claimed the title Death and who visited such on all he saw unless they pleased him was poised as on the edge of a cliff. With destruction and chaos... fire... at his back... there was no escape... nowhere to go... except to take a leap of faith... But... Methos wondered if he had that faith... enough faith to leave the empty existence his life here had become and move on. Could he at last break the hold that Kronos had on him... catering to his intelligence and vanity? Could Methos at last break free and search for fulfillment in the unknown?

"We go back now?" asked Silas, breaking into Methos' reverie.

Methos looked at the giant and smiled. "Back? If we go forever back... we will never find the answers."

"Answers? Answers to what?" Silas' seemingly impossibly deep voice echoed and rumbled within his chest.

"The meaning of it all." Methos had stood then and clasped his brother on the shoulder with a smile. They'd returned to the camp... but the ancient immortal had made his decision. With the next opportunity he was gone from this place. He would make the leap from the cliff and seek answers elsewhere. They were not here. They had never been here. But he had needed to experience this life to know that this was not the answer... that death on a grand scale... no matter how enticing it was... no matter how much he enjoyed having that power over others... was not the road he needed to trod.

"The water is deep Methos..." Old Mother had said that day as she had left him. "It covers the earth and quenches the fire and ignores the wind. Wind and fire are always rushing through bringing change. Earth and water endure... but within water lie the answers."

***

Returning to the camp... Methos did not see nor did he feel the presence of the immortal woman who came to stand over the grave of Old Mother in the gathering darkness. Even as the stars began their nightly vigil... the figure, leaning on a great staff sighed and murmured.

"My thanks child of the others for your sacrifice. For it is by this that the boy is reclaimed. Thus there may yet be hope for us all." The moon rose and in its pale light... Aja... first daughter of the people continued her lonely journey across the desert of the world once more. 


	45. Part Three: Memories and Lies Chapter 42

****

Part Three: Memories and Lies

Oh dark mistress, my only salvation

If only to hold you in blessed suspension

Eyes that hold midnight, smile that brings light

Strange fascination, my only placation

~~from_ Dead End Moon_ by Kevin Max

****

Chapter 42

Normandy, France

"... and when you were shot... that day in the school-yard... you really were shot? But it didn't hurt?" Derrick's voice pleaded to understand what he'd just seen.

Methos covered his grimace with a slight chuckle, "Oh it hurt... it hurt a lot... it always does... but it doesn't kill me."

"But Ellie's dead!"

"No... she's just sleeping. She'll awaken soon." No reason to worry the boy with the specifics of their lives.

"And what she did to that lady on the beach?"

The ancient sighed. "It's part of our survival... the lightning is called the quickening... it gives us our power to live without aging." Methos hoped he was answering the boy's questions in such a way that he would be satisfied... a way in which he wouldn't figure out the one truth they needed to keep from him.

"Those other bad people... they were like you and Ellie?"

Methos nodded reluctantly.

"And you had to kill them too? Take their quickening?"

The boy sat thoughtfully on a wooden chair in the small stone cottage into which Methos had carried Eleanor after their headlong drive from the church overlooking the beach. Methos had started a fire and lit an oil lamp... Phillip had never put electricity into this place, figuring if it were just a simple place, no one would bother it. There were few amenities here. But there were a few emergency supplies... at least enough for the night if they had to stay. Methos hadn't planned on coming here at all. It had only been one of several backups he knew of in the area; but the fight on the beach had meant he had to find a place quickly in which Eleanor could recover and they could hide from the dead immortal's watcher. As soon as she was able... they'd have to move on.

Meanwhile, Methos was attempting to settle the boy's mind by answering his questions... but without saying anything more than he'd have to. It appeared Derrick had already figured some of it out on his own. He'd already decided that Adam was a super-hero and now it seemed his beloved Ellie was too.

"Is Duncan like you guys? I mean... he took off to fight that man in the park and Ellie told me he took care of the one who kidnapped me right after I first met him?"

Methos let out a slow breath. He'd hoped the boy wouldn't put things together so well. Slowly he nodded, hoping MacLeod wouldn't take his head for that. But Methos needed to be honest with Derrick, at least up to a certain point.

"And Phillip? How about him?"

Again Methos nodded reluctantly and then shrugged. "Well... we are family." he said with a smile. Thankfully Eleanor stirred at that point on the metal bed. Methos turned his attention to her, motioning Derrick to remain silent and hold his questions for the moment.

But when Eleanor's eyes opened, they were the gray-green that had always entranced him. There was no glint of the odd light that sometimes seemed to glow from them as if some of Aja's old magic was trying to shine through. There was no sign in her face of the madness that usually overwhelmed her after a quickening. No sign of the rage that had been Kae Dhun for so many years!

Eleanor's hand went to her chest where the knife had pierced her lung. She coughed and shuddered, then glanced at him with a weak smile.

"You're all right," Methos murmured returning her smile.

Eleanor sat up on one elbow. "Yeah... I'm not lost... I didn't lose my balance this time." There was a sense of wonder in her voice. This was something new for her... to take a quickening... and not then blindly seek to kill all about her.

Behind him Derrick could no longer contain his enthusiasm. "Ellie... Adam's been telling me all about how you guys can't die!"

Eleanor sobered and looked at Methos, attempting to understand what Derrick meant. "He saw it all?" she whispered. 

Methos closed his eyes and nodded ever so briefly.

Eleanor took a deep breath and pasted a smile on her face as Derrick came closer. She pulled him into an embrace and kissed his forehead. "Well we can die, little one, it's just not so easy to kill us."

"Yeah... you gotta cut off heads and take your enemy's..." he turned his head toward Methos, "... quickening. Did I say it right?" Suddenly the boy looked at her seriously. "Have you had to kill people before?"

"Yeah!" Her voice broke as it came out. "It's not easy to do... but sometimes it's necessary." The memories of Carmen Mendoza's sad life were still a part of her. Eleanor felt as though she had put on someone else's coat... a coat that didn't feel right... that didn't fit right. As yet, Eleanor seemed to see life as Carmen had seen it. If only someone else had found her... cherished her... given her a sense of self and built on the dancer's zest for life instead of using the woman as a punching bag and victim... then perhaps she need not have died. But her life had twisted her... she'd become only what she'd been taught to be. And now she was dead... but the soul of the dancer lived in Eleanor.

"Why don't you get Ellie that tea we were brewing by the fire," suggested Methos, hoping for a moment with Eleanor to let her know what he'd had to explain. Also... he'd noticed the odd look in her eyes and knew she still needed some time to adjust. He'd been there... too often over the centuries... attempting to collate a new life and a new set of memories, into the man he was at that time.

"I'd love some tea!" Eleanor smiled her most bewitching smile at the boy who grinned and crossed to the fire, carefully pulling the kettle off and pouring the tea into a cup.

"_I had to tell him some of it_, " Methos flicked with his fingers in Nin's silent tongue. Then he whispered, "But only about us and about Phillip and Duncan. He figured them out on his own." His fingers meanwhile flicked, "_Nothing about his own potential. We have to try and keep that from him for the time being_."

Eleanor nodded her understanding and agreement. She leaned into his embrace, her voice murmuring. "You were with me in the fight. I felt you there... I had your strength to draw on and your experience helped me face the quickening without losing my balance," she whispered.

Methos pursed his brows as he quietly stroked her hair... kissing it... this was something unexpected... something they needed to discuss.

Derrick let out a yelp!

Eleanor scrambled off the bed, pushing Methos to one side in her effort to reach the boy. Derrick stood there with a burned hand... already red and blistering. Eleanor knelt beside him and asked for cold water. Behind her she heard Methos pumping water from the pump and soaking a towel. He handed it to her and she carefully cooled Derrick's hand. "Did you do this on purpose? Why?"

"I wondered if I was like you guys? If I were injured... if I'd heal like you?" Tears of pain were in the boy's eyes and his voice cracked and broke in gasps.

"Oh Derrick... you are not like us. You are just a little boy. Please... don't ever do this again." She held him close and her eyes met Methos'. This was the lie they had to tell... the one they had to make him believe. They'd both known too many child immortals and understood the fate that awaited them. Somehow they had to protect Derrick from this fate. It would have been better if he had continued to live unnoticed by immortals in the mortal world. But events had intervened. He was a part of their world now... and they needed time to allow him to grow up... to fully grow into the potential they both felt contained within him.

"You said I reminded you of a friend. I thought maybe he was like you too and that meant I was."

"No baby... you're just you... I was drawn to you because you remind me of my dead friend... but you are you and I love you for who you are. " Eleanor cradled his up-turned face between her two hands.

By this time Methos had drawn enough water to fill a bowl and had set it beside the boy. "Put your hand in this... we need to properly cool that burn down." He eyed Eleanor. "We may need gauze and ointment... any ideas?"

"Sorry haven't needed any in a long time," she grinned sheepishly at him. Then Eleanor looked back at Derrick who, with his uninjured hand was feeling the spot where she had taken the knife. He was fingering her bloody shirt and pulling at it to be certain there was no wound there.

"There's still a scar there, will it fade?" he said quietly.

"Yes... as if I were never injured... and if you are lucky... your hand won't scar either."

Eleanor ran her fingers through his short sandy hair and looked at Methos. She felt like she was balancing on the edge of a sword... One wrong step... and everything they were working for would be lost if they weren't very, very careful.

Methos nodded. The same thoughts were also occurring to him. "I'll see if I can find something we can use as a bandage," he said quietly as he rose to examine just what Phillip might have left in this cottage that he could use.


	46. Chapter 43

****

Chapter 43

Ste. Genevieve

The evening bell for dinner had long since rung. Both nuns and children had gathered for a simple meal of hearty soup and warm crusty bread, and had filled the small refectory during dinner with laughter and jests. To Alisaunne, long familiar with the quiet dignified meals of her own school, the joy in this place was a balm to her heart. All had gathered except the old nun who, for the moment, appeared to be head of this place. She alone did not attend.

Alisaunne could not help but wonder if the old nun's absence had something to do with her. But for the life of her... she could not think of anything that she'd done to create a problem. Except, of course, by having been dumped on the residents here. Still, Alisaunne eyed Ian across the table and smiled, not everyone was acting as if her presence were a burden foisted upon them.

Laughing at some joke Ian had made, although she didn't quite get the point of it, Alisaunne felt herself relaxing into the convent school's routine.

One of the nuns stepped up behind her to whisper in her ear. "Sister Luke needs to see you when you finish eating." Alisaunne nodded, noting the suddenly serious expression in Ian's freckled face. Sometimes the girl felt he was entirely too glum for one so young!

***

Sister Luke sat quietly in her cell tatting. She'd tatted as long as she could remember... since she'd been a girl at the knee of the old woman who'd raised her. Swiftly she worked the shuttle back and forth... making the lacy patterns to adorn the linens. She'd not done much in the last years of her mortal life... she'd suffered from some arthritis and stiffening of her old fingers, and her eyes had begun to fail her. But as a fully healthy immortal... she could once more maneuver the shuttle back and forth between her fingers and see the intricate knots by which the lace grew. It was one of the pleasures of immortality, that she could do this once more.

A soft knock at her door let her know the girl had arrived. "Come in, child," she said evenly... still wondering why it was Marie-France had not yet returned. This worried her... and she feared that if something happened to the older immortal... all here would be looking to her to lead the way. Luke did not think she was the one who needed to be doing the leading. She had noticed the easy friendship and slight flirtation growing between Ian and the girl, Alisaunne. While she would not and could not tell the girl about immortals or about her possible future... Luke had to tell her something to prevent this attachment from growing too strong. Already Ian's eyes followed Alisaunne wherever she was. He was tempted... so Luke would also talk with him. But first the girl.

"You wanted to see me, Sister?" Alisaunne had found some casual clothes to wear. She was dressed no longer in her school uniform... but in some old jeans and a blue chambray shirt that must have belonged to some long forgotten dweller in this place. On her feet were simple canvas tie shoes. She'd tied her long dark hair up in a pony-tail and her scrubbed face no longer betrayed the tear-tracks so evident when she'd first arrived. Her gray eyes glittered in amusement and peace.

"Sit down, child." Luke laid the tatting aside and carefully folded her old hands in her lap. She did not like mortals to see her tat. She was far too swift for the eye to follow. Marie-France had remarked on it once. It was a giveaway of her immortality. So too was her walk, thus she used the cane to slow herself down... to appear more like an old woman than she truly felt.

Alisaunne sat demurely. She had been raised by the nuns at _Academie de Sacre' Coeur_ and knew fair well when one of the sisters had wanted to have a "chat" with her... about her sometimes outrageous behavior. She was always quietly obedient at such times... at least outwardly. Inside she was usually giggling. "Have I done something wrong?" she ventured.

"Not at all." Luke smiled at the child and wondered just how to approach the subject of Ian. Finally she sighed. "You are making friends here?" The girl nodded with a smile that told Luke she was already developing some feelings for the boy. "I have not heard from _Monsieur_ MacLeod but I have no doubt he will return to collect you in a day or two. Until then... be certain you stay on the grounds."

"Of course, Sister. Is there anything else?" The girl was clearly curious, but until Luke spoke with Ian... anything she might say on that subject might well be for naught. Luke dismissed her.

As the door shut behind her, Luke reached once more for her tatting and began weaving the shuttle back and forth in the age-old patterns... patterns even older than she was... likely even older than Marie-France. One by one the delicate traceries of lace grew in her hands. Once more there was a knock at her door.

"Come!" she said, and Ian entered.

"I know why you called for me," the boy began.

Luke continued her tatting. Before other immortals she had no fear of showing her speed... at least not before the ones here. "You should not get too attached to that girl."

"I am aware of that." Ian paced across the room and stood gazing out across the vineyard through her small window. "I am at least ten times that girl's age... To her if I showed the age I am... I'd be an old man... far too old for her."

"Then why persist in this?"

Ian turned to Luke with a smile. "She makes me feel young... as young as I might have felt in my village before I died, when I still had illusions about love and marrying a woman and having a family."

"These things are not possible."

"You who lived a long life before losing it... would you give up one day of it?" Ian's voice was sharp as he asked. 

Luke gazed at him sadly and shook her head. Love was something rare and precious... no matter if one was mortal or immortal. To be loved and to return the love of someone was one of the truly great mysteries of life. Sometimes one found it... but many only settled for its form and never knew love at all. Luke had truly loved her husband and had grieved at his death. Even now, there were times she still spoke to him. She also knew that one day, she'd pass beyond this immortal life and she hoped to greet him once more on the other side. "You must not love this girl... you must not be tempted to freeze her into a moment just so you can hold onto her. She must be allowed to find her own destiny."

"I know. I won't do anything... but still," Ian smiled wanly, "for just a few days... it is a lovely fiction."

"Just be careful." Luke returned to her tatting. As the interview was concluded, Ian left.

As he walked slowly down the hall he saw Alisaunne waiting for him. She must have seen him enter although he'd come from another direction. The girl looked at him quizzically as if wondering what they had done to arouse the old nun. Ian smiled at her. He put on his best pleasant face but even as he reached her side, the mask slipped and he gazed at her with a growing knowledge that all his best intentions might be for nothing. Her own expression mirrored his. Ian took her hand and walked out into the night.

"Tell me, Alisaunne de Pres have you heard the stories of the constellations of the heavens?" Ian said with his Welsh lilt, thinking to himself that to sit in the night with this girl in his arms... even if for only a short time... would be the most pleasing thing he could think of to do.

"I have heard the Greek stories," Alisaunne murmured, whispering close to his ear. "Are there others?"

"Aye, lass... there are."

***

Ursa watched the young people from the shadows where he sang once more for the joy of the music. He smiled to himself and chuckled as the two sat on the stone bench and pointed at the heavens and spoke in low whispers and gentle laughs. There were no dangers in this place. There was only a great peace as if the land itself were blessed by gods far older than the ones he knew.

He who had been when the world was young and the only weapons men raised were of stone... had... by his sheer size... survived into a day when size meant little. There was no hate for any in his heart... just the determination to live and to protect those he cared for. The holy man had told him to come here... to use his strength to protect the small ones in the battle that would one day come. Some of those here in this place would be able to assist him... but it would be to him that they would look for protection.

Ursa concentrated on the symmetry of the music... reveling in the gentle tones that lifted his heart and soul to the heavens. He had no wish to kill anyone... but he would... should anyone come here and threaten the small ones.

Ursa lifted his voice once more in song... and the song wafted through the night.


	47. Chapter 44

****

Chapter 44

Paris

By the time darkness had fallen, Duncan had decided that the thoroughness of the fabled Watcher database was a bunch of "malarkey". Despite his best efforts, he'd found no clues among the lists of active immortals that might possibly lead to the 'Paris Slasher'. Perhaps in Joe's hands... the database might have revealed something. He'd studied those Chronicles for decades and would be more familiar with slight changes in location or routine. But to Duncan... the files told him nothing.

Finally he sat back in disgust. "This is useless!"

"Perhaps we need to do this the old fashioned way," Phillip suggested with a glint of humor in his brown eyes.

Duncan found himself smiling, almost looking forward to the jest. In the time he'd spent with the genial man, he'd found himself thinking of Fitzcairn for some reason... except... there appeared to be a greater depth and capability about Phillip than there had ever been about Fitz. In Phillip were unplumbed depths of abilities just waiting to be tapped. "And what way would that be?" Duncan finally asked.

"Footwork!"

Duncan shook his head as laughter bubbled up. "Somehow I thought you'd say something outrageous."

"Why's that?" the Greek leaned back in his chair and regarded the Highlander evenly... but his eyes still glittered merrily.

"In my rather limited experience with you... you always seem to have something outrageous to say."

"Oh." Phillip was quiet a moment. "Well... instead of walking all over Paris... we could drive... we'd cover more ground that way."

"I tried that last night."

"Well... we won't find him sitting here going through that database. We need to get out there and do something before he strikes again."

Duncan nodded. He turned off the computer. "Maybe if my Watcher Joe were here... he's the one who was shot..." he said as Phillip nodded soberly, "he might be able to find something."

"I am sorry about that... If I'd moved sooner perhaps I could have prevented his shooting," the Greek added sadly.

"We do what we can," replied Duncan. "Darius once told me that our regrets are what make us human. Without them... we have no conscience."

Phillip rose to stand looking out the window at the Paris skyline. In the distance, he could see lights on the _Arch de Triomph_ and the Eiffel Tower. He could recall when there had been next to nothing here. "Darius always did have a way of putting things into perspective."

"Even before he came here?" Duncan wanted to know, recalling suddenly that the two men had known one another for almost three hundred years before Darius had come to Paris.

Phillip glanced back at him with a smile. "Oh yes. He always seemed to know what he wanted and he went after it."

"What about Eleanor? What was the deal there? His letter to me... that's where he was going wasn't it?" Duncan felt that he might get an answer from Phillip that neither Methos nor Eleanor had been willing to give.

But the Greek appeared to be as reluctant to say anything as the others had been. Finally after a long silence he said quietly, "Truthfully Highlander, I don't know. That they loved one another... I knew even before they knew. It was in the way they were with one another. They laughed. They shared secrets. They trusted one another. But did they ever act on their feelings? Only Eleanor could tell you that."

"What about Methos?" Duncan pushed. "He and Eleanor appear to have been..."

He was interrupted by Phillip's laugh. "Oh those two! For centuries I think they tried to deny to themselves that they cared about each other... then that one couldn't trust the other one... then I think they tried to believe that the other simply didn't care for them the way they cared." He threw up his hands in mock exasperation. "Yet every time they met... they 'jumped one another's bones' is how I think the young people say it today." Phillip shook his head. "It was as if they were oil and vinegar... completely different... unable to co-exist... but together... if the circumstances were right... they were a pair."

"And now?" Duncan wanted to know.

"Now?" Phillip shrugged. "I think they've finally decided that what they have always felt for one another is more than just great sex... I think they've decided that it is love. But I do worry where this decision may lead them both." Phillip glanced darkly at the bedroom where he'd stripped a bloody bed the day before. He decided that was one thing he'd best keep secret. He still didn't know what it was all about... but he'd seen them the next morning... whatever his friends had done... it had changed them both. He'd first noticed the beginnings of a change in them that last day he'd been in the hotel with them in Seacouver. But now... Phillip shrugged once more and regarded the Highlander evenly. "Once again, MacLeod, I fear you are asking the wrong person these questions. I am not privy to their inner thoughts. Just what I observe."

Duncan grinned, "But you observe quite a bit."

Phillip nodded with a gesture. "Ah... then you have discovered my secret. My genial demeanor and laughter is all an act to hide the fact that I am a careful observer of human nature. Now then... shall we formulate our plans to cover the city of Paris?" He spread a detailed map of the city out on the table.

"Alone or together?"

"I'd say together. While we may not be able to help one another in a challenge... perhaps we can bear witness to whoever this immortal is and find a way to stop him."

Duncan nodded. "But what we really need is help to do this. Any suggestions?"

Phillip stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I've not been in Paris nearly as much as you in the last few centuries... You'd likely know who's about town that we could enlist better than I." He snapped his fingers. "I did meet someone recently... rather young... but seemed a good sort."

"Who?"

"A friend of Liam Riley's... you do know Liam... right?"

"I've heard Amanda mention him... " Duncan's voice trailed off at the thought of Amanda. She had seemed so self-contained and secretive when he'd seen her yesterday. He knew her far too well to just accept that in her.

Duncan's focus returned to Phillip's continued words, "... We could go there. Liam likely would know how to reach him."

Duncan agreed. It was at least a place to start... and a chance to gather allies.

Their initial plans made, Duncan and Phillip gathered up their swords and maps, hid the book and the laptop once more in the room, and... carefully avoiding the security camera, left the hotel. They'd have to walk until the rental agencies opened in the morning. Then they could get a car.

***

Across the street, Kenny, just out of range, watched the immortals leave. Well... wherever they were going... they'd have a shadow. Small, unseen and unfelt... he slipped through the darkness of the Paris night behind them... always keeping them far enough ahead that they could not feel him... but close enough that he could see them.

Beneath his coat... the boy fingered the hilt of his small sword with glee. With any luck... he'd finally take a head this night.


	48. Chapter 45

****

Chapter 45

Liam Riley had not slept. Instead he had wandered through the old church... occasionally pushing blocks on the twelfth century stone walls while Marie-France and Val slept restlessly in his office. Ever since first Eleanor, and then the "Swordmaster" had pushed blocks and opened secret apertures within the church a few weeks ago, Liam had spent more and more time here... seeking to find one they had not shown him. Sometimes he wondered if it were all a sham... something to keep him busy and off balance... and yet... Darius had spent eight hundred years in this church. Surely he'd had secrets. And Eleanor had told Liam to look.

As yet... he had spoken of his search to no one. This was, as yet, something he felt for some reason that only he should be aware of. Besides, Eleanor had asked him to say nothing. Liam smiled at the thought of the strange immortal. For a moment he considered getting the key from its hiding place and seeking the lock it fit... but it seemed to him to make more sense to find first the lock and then retrieve the key.

Suddenly a thought occurred to Liam. So far he had been seeking a door or an opening within the church... but what if it were outside... on the outer walls. He'd determined that he only need reach as high as a man might reach to find what he sought... otherwise it made no sense to keep searching... and he'd already been round the inner walls once now. Unless he needed to use some pattern of pushing... and he did not think so... there had to be something here.

Liam glanced into his office. Marie-France was curled up in the over-sized chair with his coat thrown over her, and Val had thrown some old hangings onto the floor and was quietly asleep on them. They would never miss him. Liam stepped out of the church into the quiet of early morning. If he were to search out here... he'd best do it now before parishioners began arriving for early mass or passersby on the street began to make their way to work or market along the street.

Cautiously he made his way to the courtyard side of the church and slipped behind the bushes that grew near the walls. He raised his arms and began to push stones one by one. He'd barely begun when he felt the tingle of an immortal behind him. Turning and expecting to have to explain his actions to Val or Marie-France he was startled to see no one. "Hello? Who's there?" Liam stepped out from between the bushes. He had no fear of an immortal on holy ground. After all... not even the most evil of them would desecrate this place.

The immortal was close... very close. He glanced about the courtyard but saw no one... "_Curious_," he thought. There was definitely someone here. He stepped back onto the paved stone walkway and turned about... seeking who was nearby. Once again he saw no one... but he felt... 

Liam turned just in time to briefly see something strike him in the head. For a moment he saw stars. Shaking his head... he was only momentarily stunned and tried to back away. Another blow fell. This time... the pain in his head was like an exploding burst of red light! It had been a long time since he had felt pain like that! Liam fell to his knees. He was only barely conscious when he realized he was being dragged some distance away. He struggled to no avail. A third blow sent him spiraling into unconsciousness. 

There was no one about to see the priest being dragged off the property.

***

At first Valeraine was not certain what had awakened her. She sat up and noted the presence of Marie-France stirring slightly beneath Liam's coat. Liam? Valeraine stood and quickly crossed the office to the entry to the church nave. Gazing about the church she saw no one... and more importantly... she felt no one. Liam Riley was gone!

Valeraine glanced behind her at the other immortal and then padded quietly through the church and out the main door. Perhaps he had only stepped outside for a moment and was nearby, just outside of her sensing range. She saw no reason to awaken Marie-France until she needed to. Seeing no sign of Liam and feeling no one nearby... Valeraine crossed into the courtyard and looked slowly about. Perhaps he had gone to one of the other buildings. The girl stepped all about the churchyard but felt nothing. Liam was definitely gone. 

A small pool of blood caught her eye on the paved stone walkway. Crouching down... she felt the blood and knew it was fresh... perhaps only moments old. Once more she stood and looked about... Seeing another few droplets near the gate Valeraine walked in that direction. A few more were on the sidewalk outside... Valeraine hesitated... was this a trap? A way to get her off of holy ground? She took a deep breath and closed her eyes... attempting to sense the presence of any other immortal in the area. Once again she felt nothing.

She was about to return to the church to awaken Marie-France when she did feel someone. Valeraine grasped the hilt of her small sword hidden within her dark coat and backed further on to the church property. Her blue eyes darted up and down the street... seeking the source of her disquiet. 

***

****

London

Cassandra and Nathan had managed to re-climb the Gray manor house overnight and Nathan's electronic decoder key system had worked wonders with the entry pad allowing them entry and a chance to turn off the alarm system. Then it was a matter of waiting for the light.

Concerned that the Watchers outside would notice even flashlights moving through the house... Cassandra and Nathan had waited in an upstairs room for dawn. Now the light was shining through the windows of the empty room.

Cassandra was actually surprised at the bareness of most of the rooms... as if whoever lived here... did so only in a few of the rooms and did not often open his doors to outsiders. Surely that was another sign that the illusive Edward Gray was likely an immortal. Of the rooms on the top floor... only two had furnishings. And the windows of those rooms had heavy drapes over them. One bedroom had only a bed and a chair... the other was a little more sumptuous, in its choice of furnishings, and it had a closet filled with men's clothing.

Cassandra sorted through the drawers and rods of the closet noticing the types of clothing and the sizes, but found nothing anywhere to give her any clue as to who this immortal was. Even the bathroom was simply a bathroom. As she was leaving it though... her foot hit a hair clasp of some sort. She reached down thoughtfully and noted it was a woman's... and that a few strands of long dark hair were caught in it. She pocketed the clasp and continued her search.

Satisfied that there was nothing on the top floor... she and Nathan carefully made their way down the wide marble staircase to the main floor. Once again... most rooms were empty. In a den were a couch and a small television... not even a late model, and an old stereo unit. She glanced through the albums noting mainly '60's rock and roll. A stack of CD jewel cases testified to some more recent acquisitions. Again... nothing of interest.

"Psst!" Nathan motioned her into what might have been a ballroom once upon a time. Now it contained some punching dummies, a few weights... some basic equipment. "His training facility," Nathan grinned.

Cassandra nodded her agreement. The immortal worked out here... in private. She ran her fingers over the weight bench and tried to visualize the man who must live here. But as they had for the last few years... her visions remained hidden from her. She had no sense of who he was or anything about him.

"Look at this." Nathan's voice caused her to turn. "He's got a few spares." Nathan had found a cabinet with several swords from various periods in it. 

Cassandra stared at the swords blankly. She turned away, "Let's see what else we can find... he must have an office somewhere."

The kitchen was likewise reasonably bare. A few long-term staples... some beer in the fridge... but nothing perishable.

Cassandra's nose wrinkled and she looked at the coffee maker. Inside the drip basket there were drying coffee grounds... used but not quite dry. A bit of mold was starting to grow on them. How old? A few weeks?

"Basement." Again it was Nathan who had found the next clue. Eagerly Cassandra followed him down the stairs into a darkened and relatively empty basement. There were a few trunks of old clothes... but again... nothing of substance.

"Either this is all a sham... or this guy has really hidden his personal belongings well," Nathan murmured, letting his flashlight play over the stone walls and into the dark corners.

"It's all too empty," Cassandra agreed. "He must have something hidden here... why else go to all the trouble to make it appear that there is nothing here." She paced about the basement and then halted in mid-stride looking about. "Does it strike you that this cellar is strangely smaller than the above floors?"

Nathan flicked his light back and forth pausing at the corners. "Now that you mention it..."

"Secret passage? Or a hidden room?" Cassandra wondered as she ran her hands over the walls... 

seeking anything... either real or psychic that would clue her in. Her fingertips paused over a stone that felt oddly smoother than the others. She pushed and was rewarded by a "click" and a slight shifting of a nearby panel. "Check it out!"

Nathan whistled, "Jackpot Cassandra... electronics." He pulled out his equipment and attached it... entering the code program. Within a few moments... something beeped and evidently disarmed. The outline of a passage became apparent.

Nodding at Cassandra, Nathan continued to view the code's progress as it disarmed one system after another. This little gizmo had run him a high price...not to mention he'd spent several hours learning the basics of how to run it, but it would be worth it if he earned the psychic's thanks.

Cassandra slipped into the passage feeling she was making progress. But within a few feet... she had come up on a dead end. "Nathan!" she called as she backed out. "Dead end!"

Nathan sighed... "Multiple systems... multiple codes... he's smart... this one. He's set double-blinds on almost everything. This could take all day and into the night."

"Fine," said Cassandra. "I have time. Keep at it." She sat down on one of the old steamer trunks to wait.


	49. Chapter 46

****

Chapter 46

Seacouver

An efficient woman ushered Anne Lindsey into Joe's house and then showed her into his bedroom. Joe was sitting up in bed looking tired but relaxed.

"Well," Anne offered with a smile, "It looks like you are settling in very well. How do you feel?"

"Better now that you're here. At least I'm off the morphine." Joe laughed and then held his breath a moment before smiling at her once more. "So how do I rate a house call on my first day home?"

"Not a house call... a friendly visit. I thought maybe I'd see your daughter here." Anne looked around.

"Amy had to get back to work," Joe replied. There was something about the way he said it, though, that made Anne wonder.

Behind her Mrs. Hutchinson, the home health nurse cleared her throat. "His vitals are strong doctor. I'm off to fix a bit of dinner." She turned and was out the door.

Joe leaned back his head and shook it, "Atilla the Hun! If you were gonna hire me a nurse couldn't you have found me a young and pretty one?"

"Well I tried, but it seems your reputation preceded you. All the young pretty ones said they'd pass." Anne pulled up a chair and had a seat by his bedside. "Let me see how you're healing." Expertly she examined his wounds. After re-bandaging them she smiled. "They look fine. I just wanted to be certain nothing was ripped in transit."

"Well I was on a gurney from the time I left one bed to be put in this one. Atilla won't even let me into my chair. _Bed-rest only! Doctor's orders!_ Hell she won't even let me have my computer!"

Anne was silent a moment. "Where is it?"

Joe grinned. "Over there." He pointed to his desk. 

Anne glanced at the laptop and smiled. "You are a very persuasive man."

"One of my many charms, darlin'."

"All right... I'll put it in the orders that you can have it... tomorrow."

Joe's face fell and he looked hurt.

"Tonight... you visit with me... and then you get some sleep." She settled back in the chair and found herself gazing at the computer.

"Your records of Duncan and the others are on that... aren't they?"

"Yeah, Anne, they are," Joe said simply.

Anne rubbed a hand across her forehead and shook her head. "Why do I let him do this to me? Every time I think he's out of my life... I see him again and it all comes back to me." Tears stung her eyes.

Joe watched her silently. Anything he might say at this point would not help. He knew how she felt. Duncan MacLeod had a way of inspiring loyalty and love in his friends. No one knew that better than the Watcher.

"I knew when I broke up with him... that it was what I needed to do. I'm a doctor... I save lives. Now I'm a mother... I want a better world... a peaceful world for her to grow up in. I want sunshine and roses... and clear blue skies... I don't want to live in a world where I have to hope the man I love can kill other men to keep us safe... to survive. I just can't!" Anne's voice rose slightly and she caught it... glancing at the door... wondering if Mrs. Hutchinson had heard anything. She lowered her voice and continued. "I did the right thing... but then I see him and suddenly... it all comes back... and I miss him and I miss what we had... what we might have had."

Joe nodded, "I know how that is." For a moment he thought about Ellie as Duncan called her... and smiled.

"I mean..." Anne continued, "I know he's moved on... I did meet Amanda... but when he's here and he smiles and he makes me wish..."

"You were in his world."

"Yeah... but then I wouldn't have Mary if I were an immortal. And I don't think I'd last very long. Not like Amanda. She and Duncan belong together."

"Tell you a secret. Something I've never told another living soul." Joe smiled sadly. "After 'Nam... after my accident... When I first learned about immortals and began to study their lives... I wished I were one."

Anne's eyes widened.

"You see... my thinking was this. If I'd been an immortal... I'd have just died there in the jungle and been reborn... my legs would have healed. I could have walked out of that jungle a whole man and into a new life. It was such a wonderful dream. There were days I thought how unfair life was to let me know that such creatures as immortals could exist and that I wasn't one. But then I saw how they lived, Anne. I saw their loneliness. I saw their pain. I saw how in living forever under the threat of death by beheading drove some of them crazy. I saw how burying everyone they ever loved could make them bitter. And then I met Duncan MacLeod. In watching him I discovered that life was precious to all of us... mortal and immortal alike. I realized how much better off I was than they'd ever be. And I realized how blessed I was to know of their existence."

"So you don't still wish you were an immortal?"

For a moment a shadow passed across Joe's face as he thought of a girl with green eyes. Then Joe grinned, "Hell no! Now about my laptop?"

"Where is he Joe? Where is Duncan these days?"

"Paris... last I heard."

Anne rose and brought him his laptop. "That explosion there yesterday?"

"Nothing to do with him," Joe lied. "Just some accident... a gas main they think."

Anne nodded and handed him the small computer. "No more than one hour tonight... and I _will_ tell Mrs. Hutchinson. Doctor's orders!" She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Kiss Mary for me too." Joe said with a smile.

"I'll do that." Anne left then, calling to Mrs. Hutchinson on her way out about the computer time.

Behind her Joe sobered. He turned on the computer and began going through the files. Amy hadn't seen anything... but Amy hadn't studied these records for over thirty years. He would run them all and look for the patterns of change... the ones they knew and the ones who had recently vanished. There was far more to the immortal chronicles than what was on the database... and Joe had made it a point to study on his own as many as he could. The database gave him current locations and Watchers... but it was the knowledge in his head that made the database a helpful search tool. 

By the time Atilla made him turn it off and take his "meds" before turning in... he'd made a start. He hadn't learned who it was... but he had a good idea who it wasn't. By process of elimination... he'd get the answer... tomorrow perhaps... or the next day.


	50. Chapter 47

****

Chapter 47

Paris

Duncan smiled wanly as he and Phillip approached Darius' old church. Duncan had been so familiar with the feel of Darius there over the years... it had been an empty sensation to pass the church in recent years and realize his old friend was dead. He'd heard of Liam Riley from Amanda... a soldier who'd had a religious conversion on the battlefield and become a priest.

"He's not a holy man like Darius was, Duncan... He's just a good man trying to do the right thing," Amanda had once told him. Now it seemed that Liam Riley had been assigned to serve Darius' old parish. Feeling a presence at the church once more seemed so right and yet so bittersweet.

As he and Phillip approached in the early morning hours... Duncan was surprised to see a child at the gate. He paused, his hand already reaching for his _katana_.

Phillip's hand rested quickly on his, "It's all right... I know her... Hello lass... still here."

The girl visibly relaxed and bowed slightly to Phillip. "Still here "Swordmaster" and I am greatly troubled." She looked at Duncan... her eyes taking in his size and his stance... weighing the danger.

"About what lass?"

"Liam has vanished... only recently. There's a blood trail." the girl pointed to the drops leading from the gate out into the street.

Duncan followed the drops to a sewer grate. He leaned down and tried to see what was within the darkness. The grate shifted slightly. Duncan met Phillip's gaze and nodded.

"Go inside lass... wait for us."

"But I can help!"

"Inside... leave this to young Duncan and myself."

The girl's shoulders sagged. "I was supposed to be watching him... I fell asleep. Nick wanted me to watch him... keep him safe."

Duncan stood. "Nick Wolfe?"

The girl nodded.

"Where is he? We came here looking for him!"

The girl shook her head. "I don't know at the moment. Please... find Liam!"

Phillip motioned her back into the church and then he and Duncan lifted the grate and shifted it... to drop into the swirling darkness of the Paris sewer.

"Who's the child?" Duncan asked as they lit torches to make their way through the sewer.

"Goes by the name Valeraine. She's been around awhile. I ran into her recently when I was here. She was concerned that Kenny was after Eleanor and wanted to warn her."

"She knows Ellie?"

"Well... she's met her... she calls her Marie-Charles. She knows Methos... "the doctor" too. She knew they were friends. She's one of Methos' students. Actually," Phillip chuckled, "she's quite capable... for a child."

"Now why doesn't that surprise me." Duncan replied with more than a hint of sarcasm.

"More blood!" Phillip pointed at a single drop. "He must have really injured him somehow... Still I doubt there'll be much more. He'd have likely healed by this point."

They went some distance further... but Phillip was right... there was no more blood and no more clues. Even Duncan's years as an Indian scout did not help. If there is no trail... one is hard to follow. It was as if the earth had swallowed up Liam Riley and his unknown abductor. Reluctantly the two immortals headed back the way they had come and re-surfaced once more onto the street. Glancing sheepishly at the passing Parisians... they replaced the grate and crossed into the old church.

Parishioners for early mass were beginning to gather. Duncan led the way quietly to Liam's office... Darius' old cell... and entered with Phillip who closed the door behind him.

Duncan stared at the two immortals who were there. The young woman with short brown hair and a gentle smile rose and offered her hand. In heavily accented French she introduced both herself and the child. "I am Marie-France and this is Valeraine."

Duncan was startled. "Marie-France of _Ste. Genevieve_?" When the woman nodded the questions already in her eyes. Duncan began to pace. "The doctor sent me there... to meet with you... to take care of a young lady... one of us... not yet immortal."

"We do not take them in. He knows this."

"It was to get her out of Paris. She saw the Slasher."

Valeraine interrupted, "Was she there when David Maillot died?" The girl shrugged at the looks the men gave her. "He was Nick's teacher. That's why Nick went looking for him. He was afraid for us to go back to the convent quite yet... besides _I_ did not wish to go... That's why we were here. He wanted me to look after Liam and Marie-France."

"Nick was concerned that we might be waylaid on the way or that the man might follow us. He wanted to be certain we were all safe." Marie-France added.

"Amanda was going to try and find him I think," Valeraine added as an afterthought.

"Amanda!" Suddenly Duncan's heart beat heavily in his chest. "You've seen Amanda?"

Marie-France nodded, "Last night. She came to see Liam and left soon after."

"I have to find her," Duncan started for the door and was met by Phillip's arm.

"Wait, Highlander. We need to think about this."

"Get out of my way!" Duncan's voice rose as he attempted to move past the Greek.

Phillip sighed, and dropped his arm. "Be careful... I'll be here. And then we need to find young Nick."

Duncan raced out of the church, ignoring the startled stares of parishioners, and then paused at the gate wondering where Amanda might have gone. If she were in Paris... where would she stay... Would she look for him? The barge! Duncan no longer cared if some Watcher saw him... he headed for the _quai_ and his barge... hoping that she was there and that she was safe.

***

In the street behind him... Kenny watched him go. He had no idea why his two quarries had split up... but they had. Kenny had to make a swift choice about whether to follow MacLeod or to stay here at the church with the Swordmaster. He thought only a moment... and then settled once more into the shadows to watch. He'd stay here... perhaps either the Swordmaster or Valeraine would leave holy ground... and he could make his move.

Kenny had been surprised to see his fellow child immortal here in Paris... He'd thought her still at the convent. But this might be an excellent chance to do her in. Now if he could just manage to surprise her somehow.


	51. Chapter 48

****

Chapter 48

When Amanda had arrived at Duncan's barge just after dark the previous evening... she'd immediately known he wasn't there. Still... she'd thought of waiting. After all... if he was in Paris as Liam had said... he would return here... Amanda knew him well enough to know that.

Duncan had an attachment to this barge. He had purchased it nearly forty years ago and had often said that it fitted his lifestyle... no matter what the lifestyle he was living at the time was. He'd lived here for a time with Tessa before she'd been killed... but it wasn't Tessa's memory that had made him keep it. In fact... he'd actually sold it once and then re-bought it for substantially more than he'd sold it for.

When it had been damaged in an explosion on board... he'd spent a great deal of money fixing it up again. After the business with Ahriman back in 1998... he'd stripped it down to its bare essentials. Little by little after that... he had slowly added furnishings back in so that now, while it was not quite as it had once been... it was much the same.

Amanda climbed the gangplank onto the deck and considered just leaving him a note while she made another attempt to locate Nick. Perhaps she could get Burt to help her locate him. After all... if Liam was right... Nick was likely in over his head and he didn't know it.

Thoughts of Nick made her think of the woman, Marie-France. Amanda knew nothing about her... or the child immortal with her... but she could definitely see how Nick might be as enamored of her as the woman apparently was with him. She was plain... but also attractive in a soft way... something Amanda most definitely wasn't. Perhaps the French woman was exactly the sort of immortal Nick needed in his life: someone he could protect and feel responsible for. As for the child... Amanda's previous dealings with Kenny had made her wary of children. They weren't really children... those immortals. They were just small and weak. Without help... they did not survive at all. Kenny had because he had learned to be devious. Amanda had no idea how the girl had managed... and she wasn't certain she wanted to find out. The girl had shot her a dark and deadly look... one Amanda had read clearly.

Amanda had reached the deck when she was vaguely aware of someone moving around inside the barge... but there was no buzz... no tingle of an immortal present. Nevertheless, Amanda prepared herself and swept open the door to MacLeod's living quarters.

One look told her the small man rummaging through MacLeod's things had no right to be there. She double-timed across the room and swept the man in a choke-hold against the bar. "Who are you?" she began... then held up his wrist and spat the word, "Watcher!" at him.

The man nodded. "Yeah... I'm MacLeod's... I was just trying to..."

"Joe Dawson is his Watcher and you are not Joe!" Amanda said sharply.

"Dawson's in Seacouver... he was shot," the man managed to get out.

"Shot?" Amanda pulled back. "Is he all right?"

"What do you care?" came the accusation.

"He's a friend. A very good friend." Amanda's words were spoken slowly and deliberately.

The man swallowed and nodded. "You aren't supposed to know about us."

"Well I do... now where's MacLeod?"

"I don't know. He had a visitor a few hours ago... and then they vanished. I was just trying to see if there was anything here that could..."

"Get out!" spat Amanda. "You Watchers are like carrion feeding on us. You have no right to be in here. If you have to follow him... follow him... But stay out of my way!" She pushed him to the steps. He stumbled up them as he left.

Amanda shook for a moment. Her vehemence had surprised her. She adored Joe Dawson... but Watchers in general gave her goose-bumps. She'd almost forgotten about them in her time in Italy. Thinking of them made her wonder about Bella, her housekeeper. But no... Bella had no Watcher tattoo... at least, not on her wrist.

Amanda settled down on Mac's sofa to wait. Her eyes swept over the barge furnishings as she tried to fathom just who MacLeod's visitor might have been. But she saw nothing that helped her decide. Later she'd checked the refrigerator for food and, noticing the amount of beer in there, decided Methos had been here recently. Normally MacLeod didn't keep that much beer around.

But where had MacLeod and Methos, too, apparently gone? Were they searching for the killer as well? Who was his visitor? Someone the Watcher had not recognized... but what could that mean? As night had settled over Paris... Amanda had dozed fitfully.

Sometime during the night she'd awakened with a start. She felt someone coming. "MacLeod!" she called out. Whoever it was halted outside and then began to withdraw. Amanda rose, drawing her blade and crept to the door. By the time she flung it open... no one was there and she could not feel anyone either. 

Whoever her shadow was... he was keeping his distance. Amanda was too awake now to go back to sleep... nor did she wish to wait for MacLeod any longer. She hid her sword once more behind her and headed for the _Ferrari_. It was time to find Nick. Instead of waiting... she would take the active approach and search for both of them. If they were seeking the killer... then sooner of later... they'd all end up in the same area... at least she hoped so. She had driven off the _quai_ and into the center of Paris once more.

***

Standing in his barge... Duncan knew Amanda had been here. He could smell the slight scent of her perfume in the early morning air. And by the disrupted nature of the barge... there had been a struggle... but a struggle with whom? Who had won... and where was Amanda now? Duncan checked to see if she'd left a message... but there was nothing.

Duncan MacLeod felt more alone than he had felt in years. As he contemplated a future without Amanda in it somehow... if not as lover... at least as friend... he felt only a bleakness that robbed him of all zest for life. She made him laugh! She made him enjoy life at times when he'd despaired of continuing. And after Tessa had died, Amanda had returned to him and gently eased him once more into life.

When he'd finally admitted to her how much he loved her... she'd seemed pleased at first... but evidently the thought of really committing to him had frightened her. She'd left... gone back to the states and by the time she had returned to Paris the following year... he'd already left. He'd heard later that she'd vanished soon after that. He'd asked Joe and been told she was in Italy... so he'd waited... wanting her to come to him. Scots pride had stopped him from going after her.

When he'd seen her at that roadhouse tavern... it was as if a wall existed between them... each of them waiting for the other to make the first move to knock it down. And Duncan had wanted to knock it down. Only his urge to get back to Paris and find the killer had deterred him. He'd chosen to take care of business first... find the killer... solve Darius' puzzle... figure out just what it was Methos was hiding and then... and then... Now... he feared he might have waited too long.

If the killer had been here... if he'd taken her... Duncan closed his eyes and felt himself shiver at the thought of her death. His eyes snapped open. Not if he could help it! Standing here would do nothing to help her... Phillip had been right... He needed a plan. He needed help. For once... this was not a job he could do alone. Slowly Duncan climbed out of the barge and onto the deck. He stood watching the birds winging over the Seine and the people passing by on the nearby bridge. He watched as Paris came to life once more around him.

He would find her... He had to find her. Determined... Duncan MacLeod strode from the barge and climbed into his _Citroen_. He did not care if a Watcher saw him leave. They'd have a hard time following him once he got started. The main thing now was to find her. What was the name of that club she'd owned here? _Sanctuary_... that was it... He headed for _Sanctuary_.


	52. Chapter 49

****

Chapter 49

By late morning Nick Wolfe had just about given up. He'd sensed no one in his erratic pattern across Paris. He'd gotten Burt to use his contacts to help with some unreleased information... but nothing had led him anywhere.

He'd broken in to David Maillot's place and searched through the man's records to see if there were any connection between him and Cassius. But other than their both being immortal... which only Nick knew... the police had found nothing... and neither had Nick. The attack on the lawyer's office was also a mystery. As near as Nick could figure... there had been no immortals involved in that set of slayings... so why there?

Flashing some phony I.D. he'd gotten access to the office. But once again... he'd found nothing to connect Clermont and his staff to Maillot and the Roman.

He was exiting his car when he felt a presence. Nick looked around. "Amanda!" he snorted. "Thought you'd left." He fingered his keys and brushed past her.

"You need help, Nick. I can help."

"We've already discussed this. I don't need your help."

"Oh..." Amanda drew her sword and lunged at him. Nick backed up and fumbled for his own but found himself against the alleyway wall with her blade at his throat. Amanda's dark eyes peered calmly into his. "I know you've studied Nick... I know Maillot taught you and that he was very good. But listen to me... Whoever this is killed him... so whoever this is... must be even better. You are a greenboy without a chance. Now let me help. Or if not me... let me get you some help." Amanda pulled back and flexed her sword in her hand. "I talked to Liam, Nick. I've met Marie and that child... I know you want to protect them... but trust me... you can't... not alone."

"Trust you? You killed me!"

Amanda nodded. "Yes... I killed you... to save you. I didn't want you to die. Maybe I shouldn't have... but I did what I thought was needed at the time. Immortality is not a curse... it's a gift."

"Yeah... only I have to kill people to keep it!"

"What do you want me to say? I'm sorry? Well I'm not sorry you're still alive!"

"You should have told me... you should have given me the choice."

Amanda shook her head. "It's not that easy Nick. You needed to die a sudden death... an unexpected death. If I told you... it might not have been sudden for you... Expecting to live again... you might have simply accepted your death and died. It happens sometimes... that's why we don't tell those who might join us... not if we can help it."

They were both silent a moment. Finally Nick nodded. "All right... let's say for the moment that we can work together. What are your thoughts about finding this guy?"

Amanda smiled and tossed her head. "I have a friend here in Paris. He's a lot like you... independent... stubborn... loyal... a real Boy Scout. He's likely working on this alone as well... If we can find him, work with him... we might have a chance."

"Well come on... But watch what you say around Burt."

"I always watch what I say." Amanda's voice... so earnest and quiet a moment ago, had regained its teasing tone. "By the way... I liked your friend."

"Val... she's interesting." Nick agreed.

"No... I meant the other one... Marie."

"Marie-France? Amanda," Nick grinned, "she's a nun."

"Really? Well I think she rather likes you."

"Amanda... stop playing match-maker. Let's just contact your friend from Burt's and arrange to meet him." Nick took her by the elbow and steered her toward his SUV.

"Well she does like you."

"Amanda!" Nick said between gritted teeth as he fumbled for the key to unlock the door. But deep within himself, Nick discovered he was feeling a bit warm and secretly he wanted to smile at the thought of Marie-France.

***

Within Liam's office the three immortals waited. Marie-France stared out the small window and worried. Valeraine pace back and forth fuming... and Phillip lounged in the over-stuffed chair while regarding them both.

Val headed for the closed and locked office door. Phillip stretched out one leg to impede her progress. "Let it go, lass. There's nothing you can do except wait."

"Nick might need me... Liam might be dead!"

From the window, Marie-France spoke up. "There's been no quickening... at least none in this quarter. If he'd killed him... shouldn't we have felt something... seen something."

Phillip nodded. "Still... if he's dead and that may be a foregone conclusion... the only thing we can do is stick together to find this killer. On the other hand... if we can determine what he wants... what he's searching for... then we can anticipate his next move."

"But there is no common thread."

"None we can see... yet," Phillip agreed. "But if we pool our resources... our knowledge of the victims... what they knew... who they knew... then..." Phillip's voice trailed off and he shrugged.

"Well... Nick trained with Maillot, and he was with me when I went to see Cassius." Val began softly and then glanced around, "and he's friends with Liam. Nick must be the target for some reason."

"He's so young... I doubt it," came Marie-France's voice from the window. "It has to be something else. Why at the school... why the mortals there? Why the mortals at that _avocat's_. Perhaps the answer is there."

"Then what would Liam's involvement be if it had something to do with someone at the school?" Phillip mused... "MacLeod asked if you were from _Ste. Genevieve_... didn't he say something about taking a witness there... one of us? One 'the doctor' wanted protected?" Phillip leaned forward and clasped his hands thoughtfully. A child? Another pre-immortal child? They were more and more rare these days... as if with the onset of the Gathering... no more were needed. He steepled his fingers and tapped them against his lowered forehead. But why the _avocat's_ office? Why Liam? "It might be a good thing you two did not head back to the convent. Keeping its secrets may be worth all our lives."

"Darius once told me that in the end of days... we might all need such a place... to find respite." Marie-France came to sit beside him on one of the hard chairs. Her soft, low voice was warm.

Phillip nodded. He'd forgotten Darius had helped with that place. Although he'd likely never been there... he'd sent money and child immortals there for centuries. "Did Darius send you some papers and artifacts before he died?"

"Marie-Charles asked me the same thing when she last came. Darius sent me nothing but letters. After his death Matthias came, he brought Ursa with him, but that was all."

Phillip sat up and stared.

"Kenny was there... He saw Marie-Charles and followed her here?" Phillip asked. When Valeraine nodded he leaned back thoughtfully.

"When I saw Edmund... the doctor... with Nick recently... he said I shouldn't worry about Kenny and that Marie-Charles was long gone from here."

"Nick met him?" Phillip looked at her, his fear rising. "What name did he use?"

"Adam something..." Val shrugged and then dug in her pocket for the slip of paper. "Cassius had given me the name... here it is Adam Pierson... but he thought he was new. I was trying to find a new immortal that Kenny might be trying to trick. I was hunting Kenny. Is that important?"

"Everything is, lass... now both of you... begin at the beginning. Tell me everything from when Marie-Charles came to _Ste. Genevieve_ this last time. Don't leave out anything... every detail... everything that passed between you or that you observed. I need to know it all." His glance took in them both. They nodded and began to tell the Greek what he asked.

***

Outside, Kenny waited. He'd have his chance... soon. He just needed to be patient.


	53. Chapter 50

****

Author's Note: Readers... feedback on all this would be extremely helpful. Please comment and review... often!

Chapter 50

Northeastern France

Methos had changed vehicles three times and had driven off in different directions each time. Finally satisfied that they were not being followed, he allowed himself to relax.

"I take it you have a place in mind in the area." Eleanor's left hand was in his right at the moment. The touch of her hand on his helped him focus.

From the back seat Derrick looked far more relaxed than he had since Methos had met him... although the boy was picking a bit at his bandaged hand. Ever since telling the boy part of the truth... Derrick had seemed to take it in stride as the answer to all the "weird stuff" and had ceased asking his questions. Methos sincerely hoped that would continue. Now more than ever he was convinced he needed to find time to discover what the boy might know... buried in those strange memories of his... as well as finalizing the unity bond with Eleanor. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it as he let go to turn the wheel into the long shaded avenue.

On either side of the road, cypress trees lined the gravel drive that twisted around through the rising hills. Finally the road straightened and he could see the three-story brick and stone house before him. Built in the early seventeenth century by a minor _marquis_ with royal connections... it had a grand sense of proportion. Of course, Methos smiled at the memory, the _marquis_ had also had a gambling problem. He'd lost the house to the immortal in a game of cards. Methos... having no need of it at the time... had allowed the family to stay on there. The last of them had died during the French Revolution as had so many of the aristocracy. He'd continued as absentee landowner and occasional tenant here over the centuries. It was isolated, and it had been empty for the past fifteen years.

He'd called the caretaker, a man named Bouchet, a few days ago and made arrangements for the house to be opened up and cleaned. There should be no one else there. He'd indicated he would hire a staff later.

"Now remember, Derrick, say as little as possible. Be polite... but speak only when spoken to. Also... do you remember the names I told you?"

Derrick nodded, "You have to use other names so no bad people can trace you. You are Marcel Gambon and his wife Julietta. And I'm your nephew Jonathon, from America." The boy repeated the names over several times in mock phrases to be certain he had them down. "I'll remember." He grinned at Eleanor, beaming a bit in his youthful enthusiasm.

"Just be as quiet and still as you were before, when we were traveling with Phillip. Once we are alone... we can relax a bit." Eleanor reached back to pat his arm. "Then we can spend a few days here and you and ...Marcel," she grinned at Methos... can play games and we can wait for Phillip."

"And Duncan? He'll come too, won't he?" His eagerness was apparent.

"If he can... if it's safe." Methos agreed and pulled to a stop in the circular drive. He stared up at the pale orange brick and the dark windows recalling another time he had arrived here... by private coach. He'd been a bit tipsy as he recalled, but then... life had been simpler then.

They were met at the door by Bouchet who turned over the keys, showed them around the lower floor and spoke proudly of the history of the house. He asked about staff interviews and was told in a few days. They'd be fine for a few days... they were eager to experience the peace and quiet of the estate. Satisfied that his absent employer had not rented the house to buffoons or to dangerous folk... Bouchet had shuffled off to his cottage at the far end of the estate. Methos shut the door behind him and let out a great sigh and then a chuckle.

"I can't believe he didn't recognize me."

"When were you last here?" Eleanor said.

"Just after World War II... I checked on how the place had fared under occupation and stayed here while getting my next set of documents together to move on. He was a boy then."

They found Derrick in a gallery staring at the paintings of "ancestors" on the walls. "Is there one of you here, Adam?"

"No... I'm very careful about things like that... although," he leaned over conspiratorially and whispered in the boy's ear just loud enough for Eleanor to catch his words. "I do have a very excellent one of Eleanor at another home that is a real eye-opener." He ducked as she pretended to throw something. Then they came to what had been the ballroom. 

The empty room with its faded rose silk panels, great crystal chandelier and polished marble floor beckoned them to step back in time.

"Were you ever here, Ellie?" the boy asked.

"Just once... but it was a long time ago," she murmured.

Methos came up behind her and cleared his throat. When she turned he bowed formally, "Milady... might I have this dance?"

Eleanor curtsied deeply as though in a ball gown and took his hands. Together they waltzed about the room to unheard melodies, laughing as they twirled. When they finished, he held her closely in his arms and kissed her hair. When Methos glanced at Derrick he noticed a strange look on the boy's face.

Derrick slowly walked over and lifted his arms. "Dance with me Eleanor," he said oddly.

Eleanor smiled and reached for his hands. Together they danced... not a waltz, Methos noted, but a far older dance... one he and Eleanor had danced when they had first married. They'd danced it time and again over the years... and once he'd seen her dance it with Darius. The boy and the immortal shifted and turned, twirling in the age-old steps that were the patterns Methos had so lately used to mark her as his. Faster and faster the two moved as if they had danced this way for a thousand years. It made Methos uneasy and a dark look passed over his face.

As if she felt his unease, Eleanor stumbled in a step and then laughed nervously, holding the boy tightly in her arms and staring at Methos with a look of fear and distrust on her face.

Methos shoved his hands deeply into his coat pockets and shrugged. He smiled sheepishly and said, "Shall we see what Bouchet left for us in the kitchen. He did say there was food for a cold supper." Eleanor nodded, and allowed him to place an arm around her shoulders as they headed for the kitchen; but she kept Derrick close to her... and on the far side... away from Methos. 

***

****

London

"Got it!" Barlow's voice sounded triumphant.

"About time!" Cassandra had been twiddling her thumbs in this cellar for hours. Earlier she'd gone back upstairs and searched everywhere for other hidden entrances or tell-tale clues. But there had been nothing there. At least there were no apparent signs of anything.

She'd spent the last few hours just waiting. In her fingers she turned over the hair clasp and tried to visualize the woman who might have worn it. Tall... short... mortal... immortal... the only clue she had was the dark hairs trapped in the clasp. Their presence told her that... but as to the rest.... Cassandra had no idea. She had no visions... no sense of the owner. She roughly shoved the clasp into her pocket.

Barlow grinned like a silly schoolboy as he motioned her through the maze and up to... Cassandra halted and stared. "It's a vault!"

"What?" Barlow came up behind her. "Son of a bitch! This devious bastard has more tricks up his sleeve than any three immortals." He sighed. "Give me some more time... I'll get it open."

Cassandra waved her acquiescence and stood thoughtfully to one side. Something Barlow had said had caused her to think. "_Tricky? Devious? Who do I know like that?_" Cassandra grinned with a predatory look... like a cat that knows the bird is hers. "_Methos... wouldn't that be too perfect." _She could rob him of something... she could put a thorn in his side and cause him pain_. _"_Oh... if it were only so!_" She backed out of the maze once more and sat on one of the trunks to wait. She could be patient... especially if it were Methos she might be robbing. She picked up a box of stale crackers she had lifted from the kitchen and began to munch. She was hungry... and this was taking far longer than she had anticipated.


	54. Chapter 51

****

Warning: The monster appears... and in true horror film fashion... he begins to show why he is feared. This is only the beginning.

Chapter 51

Paris

Liam Riley woke in darkness and to as much pain as he'd ever known. He shifted freely in the dark, realizing with a start that he was lying on a pile of bones. He scrambled about to get off of them. Nearby he heard a chuckle, evidently from the immortal he could sense.

Feeling the wall, he noticed its rough rock surface and began to stand.

"Relax, priest, if I wanted you dead... you'd be dead," came the voice of his unknown attacker.

"If you just wanted to talk... I would have talked with you on holy ground."

"Yes... but you might not have answered my questions without persuasion."

Liam hefted a long bone in his hand and swung it before him blindly. "Who are you?"

The chuckle sounded again. "I think _I_ will ask the questions!"

"What questions?" Liam could see nothing. Once more he swung the bone and stepped away from the wall slightly as he tried to find a surface free of bones that would give him better footing.

"Where's the girl?"

"What girl?"

Suddenly a blow sent Liam sprawling. He slid once more against the wall and landed with a _thump_. Slowly he attempted to rise but a second blow landed on his right leg... thoroughly crushing his kneecap. He screamed.

"I've always wondered how much I could do to an immortal... before they talked. Before they would sell me their mother's soul for death's release." 

Another heavy blow landed, once more on the only partially re-knit bones of Liam's knee. He 

screamed once more... and then tried to catch his breath. "We have no mothers!"

"Don't... change... the subject...!" Another blow landed. This time... Liam was certain that the jagged ends of the broken bones had torn through the bloody skin. He forced his leg to straighten... already feeling the bones and ligaments begin to shift back into place. But the pain remained... as did the memory of pain.

His torturer chuckled again. "I need you conscious for this to work. I shall keep this up as long as it takes. In the end... you will tell me where Darius hid the girl!"

Liam's eyes widened. "_Darius?_" he thought. And then he realized he did know something. He knew about the little pre-immortal girl Darius had once asked him to keep an eye on if anything happened to him. That had been shortly before he was murdered. The girl had been at the school where Maillot had worked when he'd been killed. Liam was the one who'd suggested to Maillot to teach her fencing... to train her... to watch her. 

Liam swallowed and tasted blood. He had to say nothing... he had to endure whatever this man did. Somehow... he had to maintain his silence. "I don't know of any girl," he offered. But his offer was met by another blow... this one to his right arm. Then another blow to his right leg. Liam rolled onto his left side moaning and tried to focus his mind on anything... an old hymn, a prayer, a litany... anything that would help him stay silent. He curled into a ball.

His fingers found the knife hidden within his shirt... the one he kept for protection if he were off holy ground. His tormentor had not searched him... he still had a chance. But to use it... he had to know exactly where his attacker was. If he betrayed having it now... if he pulled it without knowing what would happen... he'd likely lose it. Liam forced his hand to relax and let it drop to his side. Swallowing with fear... he straightened and began rising to a crouch... the pain still present and producing a sick sweat across his brow. His voice cracked with the effort, but it was all the defiance he dared offer. "I don't know what girl you mean!" He flinched in anticipation of the next blow. But this time... it landed on his back. Liam felt his spine snap and he screamed at the pain.

"Where's the girl! Tell me and the pain will stop."

"I don't know!" Liam whimpered. "I truly do not know where she is."

"That's better. You now admit knowing of whom I ask. Now then... " Liam felt lips close to his face... whispering with glee. "She left the school... Where would she go if not to you?"

Liam said nothing, he lets his wracked sobs do his talking. "_The pain!_" he thought. "_How much more?_" Once again he thought about the knife. He needed to be ready... needed to make his move. Liam managed to slip his right hand beneath his shuddering body even as the throes of healing were making it jerk violently up and down.

"Pity... I thought we had an understanding." Once more the heavy blows as from some large sledge hammer began to rain down on him until he was just short of losing consciousness. Then... they stopped. The even more painful straightening and knitting of bones began then... and then the procedure was repeated... again... and again... and again... until Liam wanted to babble everything he knew... He'd tell him anything... everything... if he'd just stop... all he had to do was stop.

"Where might she be?"

"_Ste. Genevieve_," he lied. "It's a convent in Alsace-Lorraine. Maybe someone took her to _Ste. Genevieve_." He hoped it wasn't so. As far as he knew... pre-immortals were forbidden there... but his tormentor wouldn't know that. Liam's mind could not think of anything else... there was too much pain. Surely no one else in Paris knew about the place besides Marie-France, Valeraine, and now Nick Wolfe. Surely whoever had helped the girl had taken her elsewhere. But the pain... white-hot and tinged with red... made it difficult to think.

"That's better," the voice said. One hand ran softly over Liam's head and patted it gently. "See... that wasn't too bad now... was it?"

Liam heard footsteps walking away in the water and the crunch of bones beneath the man's feet. Then he heard the scurrying sound of small creatures in the dark... creatures attracted by the smell of Liam's blood were nosing about him... scurrying over his huddled form. He pushed at them with a shudder... fearing that it would only encourage them... bring more of them. Their chittering in the dark added to his terror of what was happening. In a few moments he'd be healed enough to stand once more. He shoved again at the rats nosing him and slowly forced his legs to make the effort to stand. He succeeded! Than, as quietly as he could, grimacing at the pain still present in his legs and feet, and back he began to edge along the wall. At his feet the rats still chittered hungrily. In the distance he thought he could hear the other stop and then he heard the sound of steel being drawn. His tormentor would be back.

Liam pulled the knife from his shirt and stumbled off in the other direction from the sounds of the steel. _He had to get away! He could not bear it!_ Faster and faster he ran in the darkness... but he could not see where he was going. Liam hit a wall and stumbled to the rocky floor. Rising... he tried once more to escape. After running into a wall for the third time... Liam realized his captor was closing in once more with deliberate slowness ... drawing out the planned encounter... using time as a means of torture as well as pain. The immortal could hear the other's slow step in the puddles and his oncoming laughter like something out of a nightmare. Liam Riley did what he'd most feared to do... the one thing he did not want to do... but he could not endure even the thought of another round at the hands of this immortal. Even as he continued to run... no longer to get away... but just to put some distance between himself and his torturer he shifted the knife upward. 

"May God forgive me!" Liam whispered as he ran the razor-sharp knife deeply across his own throat and felt the life leave him. His last conscious thought was that he hoped his torturer was still too far away to learn what he truly knew.

Through the infra-red goggles that helped him see... the immortal watched the priest fall. He sped up his pace... but the priest was dead before he got close enough. No quickening erupted.

"Damn!" he howled into the darkness... hearing his voice echo amongst the stone culverts and catacombs of the sewer. Who would have thought the man would have tried suicide? He'd misjudged him... and that made him angry. He gave the body several swift hacks with his sword, then kicked at it... still screaming at it in anger. Then calming down, he consigned the body to the swarming rats. They could have him now. He was of no use to anyone.

That the priest had still been lying even at the end was a given... but how much of it was a lie? If the convent existed... perhaps it would be worth checking out. 

The girl was what was important. When he'd first seen her years ago... he'd known. She was born... not found... but born immortal... an immortal child who'd been born to immortal parents. Within her was likely the key to everything. She would be his key to the final prize. With her at his side he would survive all comers at the Gathering. He had to possess her. Oh she'd been carefully hidden... she'd evidently been left as a foundling as the others were... but he'd known. He'd sensed the difference in her... as only the oldest of their kind could sense. He doubted even that young pup Darius had known.

But Darius had been killed before he could reach him... and at the time, he'd had nothing to go on as to where to find the girl. She'd vanished so completely that he'd doubted she was even in Paris any longer. The priest had to have hidden her somewhere. As it was... other things... other events... other distractions (he grinned at the thought of the last one) had called him away... but now he was back. He'd come to find the girl, and make her... his. She'd be his... bound to him body and soul and all she knew or would ever learn would be his to know.

He pivoted in the darkness and headed for the egress. He'd go once more into the damned light. He had a clue and time was on his side. Besides... Amanda was still out there. True... she wasn't the one he needed... but she'd do for a brief diversion. He smiled. He could still afford diversions.


	55. Chapter 52

****

Chapter 52

Amy Brennan-Thomas' flight to Paris had been uneventful. As far as the Watcher Council was concerned, she was still in Seacouver.

"I need you to be my eyes and ears and legs, Amy," Joe had said. "I'll do the research... but I need someone I can trust there."

So Amy was here.

She gathered her bags from customs and flagged a taxi. Once she was settled in a hotel... she'd start the legwork. Joe wanted her to find Duncan MacLeod. She was then to be the conduit through which Joe could get information to MacLeod to help in the search for the unknown immortal.

"I know he's searching for him Amy... I feel it. Now you haven't met him so he might be suspicious of you. If he's with Methos... the doctor'll vouch for you... but if he's not... You have him call me. By then... I hope to know who this son of a bitch is."

"Aren't we interfering in their lives, Joe?"

"Damn straight! But this guy isn't just killing immortals Amy... whatever he's doing isn't part of the game. We have to intercede."

"I don't see the difference between this unknown immortal and Morgan Walker's killing of a model. You told me not to interfere then. What's the difference?"

"You wanted to involve the authorities... but that would have exposed us. This guy is killing on a grand scale Amy. He's in the open and he doesn't seem to care. He could expose all the immortals and us as well. The immortals will be searching for him... we just have to give them a head's up to help find him."

"Seems a very fine distinction Joe."

"Yeah... guess it's a matter of perspective."

"And not letting the other Watcher's know what's going on? Aren't we betraying our oath?"

"Yeah... but they're my friends... I have to do something... and I need you to help. If you can't do this... fine. I'll find Mac another way."

He'd seemed so defeated at that point that Amy had said she'd do it... no matter the consequences. She paid for the cab and followed her bags into the hotel and then up to her room. Once there... she phoned Joe.

"I'm here. I'm set to go... Where do you want me to look first."

"MacLeod showed up at his barge this morning but he just missed finding Amanda there according to his Watcher. Both were driving about Paris. I think he'll head to Amanda's old club _Sanctuary_ to try and get a bead on her whereabouts. Go the club Amy and wait for him. And Amy... be careful."

"Has there been any sign of Methos?" she asked him, almost as an afterthought. 

"No... it's as if the earth has swallowed him up." Joe replied. Amy could here a twinge of something in his voice... was it regret? She focused on his words as he continued. "Although a man who witnessed a quickening at Normandy Beach yesterday may have been him. The Watcher lost track of him."

"Witnessed... not involved?" Amy bit her lip. As much as Joe was involved as MacLeod's Watcher... she was Methos'. He was her main priority... his Chronicle was the one she most wanted to have an impact on.

"No... seems to have been the Watcher's assignment Carmen Mendoza. She met a couple kids on the beach and evidently lost her head. A man was seen to carry one of the kids off the beach while the other followed. The Watcher didn't know him... but his description could have been Methos. The Watcher stayed behind to direct the clean-up crew."

"Kids?"

"Yeah... even the kids can be deadly. Once again... be careful... I don't want to lose you."

Amy hung up the phone after a quick exchange of "goodbyes"... the words she'd considered saying went unspoken. She pulled on slacks and comfortable shoes. She gathered up her cell phone and thought about calling in officially anyway. Likely as not... someone might notice her... report her presence here to Dr. Zoll. But... as Joe had pointed out... she was not known to many of the field agents... she might be able to slip past them unnoticed. At least long enough to contact MacLeod.

Amy picked up a Paris map in the lobby... it had been years since she'd studied the layout here. Methos had moved to London after 1998 and had not returned here until coming with MacLeod a few weeks ago. She'd forgotten the layout of many of the streets she'd learned when she'd been here then. Amy checked the location of Amanda's old club and caught a taxi. She settled back into the seat and watched the Eternal City pass her by.

***

Duncan parked his _Citroen_ in the lot and approached _Sanctuary_. Part of him laughed internally at the sheer gaul of Amanda to have purchased a nightclub on what had once been holy ground... what had been a church. It had made perfect sense to her... he supposed. Immortals could come and she would not have to worry about fights breaking out. They could meet and talk... and plan... and have a drink at the same time. As he stood outside the entrance, he could sense someone inside. Hoping that it was Amanda, he entered.

The interior was dim... as were most nightclubs. The ambient daylight making few inroads into the interior of the club through the tinted and partially covered windows. Duncan paused... letting his eyes adjust.

"Duncan!" Amanda's voice rang out. "I was just trying to phone you again!"

Duncan did not hesitate but crossed the bar swiftly and swept Amanda into his arms... holding her and letting the fear that had consumed him since learning she was in Paris ebb from his soul.

"Well... I'm glad to see you, too!" As the other day, Amanda had that friendly but stay-at-arms length tone in her voice. He didn't care and kissed her... thankful she was here and still alive. Within his embrace he felt her soften...responding to his kiss. "Mmmm... nice," she managed as he relaxed his hold on her.

"I was worried. I went to the barge... you'd been there... the place was a wreck."

"I surprised a... burglar," she winked at him so that he nodded... understanding that it had been a Watcher and understanding there was someone here who did not know about immortals. "So I didn't stay..." Amanda smiled and turned to face the two men at the bar.

Duncan realized one of them was an immortal.

"This is my friend Duncan MacLeod," Amanda said, beginning the introductions. "And these are my friends Burt Meyers and Nick Wolfe. I was just telling them that we could use your help."

Duncan nodded at the men. He'd follow Amanda's lead in this conversation. Nick Wolfe was the immortal Phillip had wanted to locate. Two problems solved. Now to get them all back to the church. The Highlander refrained from mentioning Liam's disappearance... at least for the moment. Nor did he mention his involvement with Phillip... time enough for both explanations once they'd left here.

Chatting away, Amanda tried to briefly fill him in on who the two men were... without, of course saying anything that might cause Burt to wonder what was going on. He was evidently in some sort of security... so was using his contacts to help Nick... an ex-cop and "friend" of one of the victims look into the killings.

Finally, Burt went to place a call.

Duncan whispered to the two immortals, "Liam's vanished. We need to get to the church and organize a search."

Amanda's face reflected fear... Nick's anger. He polished off a drink. "You two go on... I'll follow along in a few minutes."

"No... Nick... we need to stay together..." Amanda whispered to him.

"She's right... your friends are fine..." Duncan noticed the relief on Nick';s face. "A friend of mine is with them for the moment... He'll make certain they stay together. Find a reason for us to leave and let's go. My car's in the lot."

Nick nodded, then glanced at Burt nearby. "I'll tell him something... wait for me outside. I'll join you."

As Duncan and Amanda left... Nick tried to still the rage boiling within him. First David Maillot... then Cassius Marcellus... now Liam Riley. It was as if this immortal had painted a target on Nick and one by one was taking out the people he knew. He couldn't let Val and Marie... or even Amanda or anyone else become the next victim. He sloshed down the remainder of his drink and glared darkly at his reflection in the mirror over the bar.

"Burt... I'm outta here!"

"Wait... Nick?" Burt called after his friend. But Nick and Amanda and her friend were gone. Burt returned to his call. "That's right... I'm gonna need some help on this. I'm calling in a few markers. Call me back when you have something." Hanging up the phone, Burt stared out the windows into the street. He really wished someone would be straight with him about all this. Burt had been in Intelligence long enough to know when people were keeping secrets. And he most definitely felt that Nick, Amanda and that Scotsman were keeping a very big secret. They'd seemed to say one thing that meant something else entirely to them. He shook his head and was heading upstairs to do some paperwork when he heard the door open once more.

"May I help you?" he called to the attractive young woman who'd entered.

"I sincerely hope so," she replied. "I'm looking for someone... she owned this bar several years ago... Amanda Montrose... Either her or a friend of hers... Duncan MacLeod."

"You just missed them," Burt came down the open staircase once more. "They both just left... are you another friend of Amanda's?"

The woman smiled and chuckled, "No... I've never met her or MacLeod... but I'm a friend of a friend. Would you know where they were headed?"

Burt shook his head. "No... they didn't say... but a friend of mine is with them... he may call me later. You're welcome to wait. I know it's early for drinks but I do make an excellent coffee." Burt's lame attempt at flirtation was met by a smile. "I'm Burt... I'm the owner."

"Amy..." she said. "I suppose I could wait for a bit. It's very important I find them and I really don't know where to look next."

Burt poured two cups of coffee and offered her one at the bar. He leaned over and in his most pleasant voice asked, "Is this your first trip to Paris?"


	56. Chapter 53

****

Chapter 53

The drive to the church had been filled with an uncomfortable silence. Duncan had decided to wait to tell them anything else... and he could tell there were some ill feelings between Amanda and Nick. As he pulled into a parking space across from the church, Duncan was relieved to still feel an immortal presence there. At least he hoped it was Phillip and the two females.

He followed Nick and Amanda in. Nick... obviously wanting to be certain that those he'd left here were still safe... Amanda obviously hoping that somehow Liam had returned. In Darius' old cell... now Liam's office and storage space... Duncan's eyes took in the faces of them all.

Marie-France was standing near the window sobbing. Valeraine had run to Nick and thrown her small arms about him. Nick's eyes, however, were on Marie-France and only a blind man could have failed to see that he wanted to comfort her. Phillip was seated thoughtfully in the arm chair... a solemn expression on his face.

It was Amanda who spoke up first, "What's happened?"

Marie-France shook her head and turned to face the window.

Valeraine answered, "She thinks Liam's dead... She is sometimes aware of the passing of some of us... if it's nearby." 

"There was no quickening!" Duncan insisted. "Or was there?" After all... they'd only just arrived. Surely if there had been a quickening in the area they'd have noticed it. Yet he recalled times when he'd sensed the passing of those he'd known. His thoughts momentarily thought of Connor... and of Lucas Desiree.

"No quickening," replied Phillip tersely.

Nick gently disentangled himself from Val. "Look who's back? Still stirring things up and creating mysteries in your wake?" he snapped at Phillip as he crossed to Marie-France... uncertain if he should attempt to comfort her or not. Liam had not told him much about the Swordmaster... but his previous visit here had stirred several things up... not the least of which had been Liam's sudden fascination with this church's foundations. 

"Not here by my choice, lad," Phillip said gently.

Nick softly touched Marie-France's arms. "Are you certain? Maybe it's just fearful thinking."

"Would that it were so... but I felt him go... not the feel of his presence... just a shifting as I occasionally feel when an immortal I've met dies... if it is nearby." Marie-France turned her head and stared out the window. "He was terrified."

Val looked up at Nick's gaze... focused on Marie-France and sighed. Would that she were physically older... perhaps he would have looked at her that way. She hugged her oldest friend in all the world not knowing what else to do but offer her support.

"Shouldn't we be certain... We need to look for him... We need to find him!" Amanda's voice broke into sobs. Duncan put his arms about her and held her. "I should have stayed... I felt someone lurking about when I left... I should have come back in... I should have told him..." She ceased her struggles and began to simply weep.

Duncan held her tightly and whispered, "If you'd stayed... it might have been you we lost." Calmly his strong voice spoke more loudly, "We need to find the killer before he strikes again... Phillip?"

The Greek nodded... not even concerned that Duncan had used his name. It was likely time for at least some honesty between allies. "I need to know about the girl you were taking to _Ste. Genevieve_ Duncan. Why did... 'the doctor'..." Phillip paused meaningfully at that point, "suggest there? He knows that place is not safe for them. The rules exist for a reason."

"The doctor?" asked Nick... turning to Phillip.

Val tugged at his hand. "You met him Nick... the one Cassius sent us too... he uses the name Adam now."

Nick shook his head. Once again the noose seemed to be tightening about him. Everyone and everything seemed inter-connected as though there were some master-mind... some master-plan... but he remained on the periphery... looking in... trying to make sense of it all. And once more... the immortals he'd recently met... seemed to be either the targets or involved in this somehow.

Val continued, "Marie-France and I both know him. We've known him for centuries."

Amanda looked at Duncan, "Adam... Pierson..." she finally said raising an eyebrow. 

Duncan nodded. "We were doing some research into a problem... then we met the girl and... Then things got complicated."

"We all need to be on the same page. Let's share what we know... somewhere in what we have... there must be a clue as to what this is all about." Phillip said.

Amanda turned to the Greek, "And you are?"

"The Swordmaster of Alexander the Great is what he told me," interjected Nick.

Amanda's eyes widened with a teasing smile, "Rebecca's old friend... She once mentioned that she wanted me to meet you... but I never did." 

Phillip nodded, "Now then... shall we start? We need answers before anyone else dies."

***

Hours later... the afternoon falling into evening... Phillip had all the pieces... all but one. He stepped outside the church into the falling darkness and immediately sensed the immortal he'd known was nearby since their arrival earlier.

"Kenny! I'm on holy ground. I need to talk with you!" he called out. He'd told the others to wait inside. He needed to know exactly what the boy-man had seen.

Reluctantly Kenny slipped out of the shadow of a nearby building and cautiously entered the churchyard... remaining by the gate. He backed up a few steps as Phillip approached. 

"Lad... you're safer here than out there."

"I don't trust you! You're all alike!"

"Lad... if we were all alike... you'd have lost your head to me centuries ago. I don't want your head... I've never wanted it. But I will take it if you force me to."

"Maybe I'll take yours!" Kenny's belligerent tone was rising.

Phillip chuckled as he shook his head. "I just want to know what you saw at the school and at Cassius' place. I need to know what he looked like."

"Why should I tell you anything?"

"Because if you remain out there... hiding and alone... he will kill you too. Your choice lad... come in and share with us what you know... or face the darkness by yourself."

Kenny regarded the Swordmaster with suspicion. "What about MacLeod?"

"On holy ground... no one will hurt you. Besides... Amanda's here now."

Kenny seemed to think for a minute. "Amanda hates me too."

"Amanda does not hate you, lad. No one here will harm you... unless you attempt to harm them first."

Kenny stepped forward onto the premises. "Just you remember this is holy ground!"

Phillip chuckled once more and shook his head. "Now describe to me exactly what this immortal looked like... every detail... everything you felt. Where he came from... how he moved? Everything!"

Kenny nodded and began to talk... but his eyes glared at the Swordmaster even as he did so.

***

Not far away... in the darkness... just out of range... he watched them. They would likely figure it out soon... and while it might be pleasant to remain and deal with them one at a time... as he had originally hoped to do... he had to find the girl. Perhaps there had been just enough truth in the priest's final words that he had known something and let it slip.

Time to leave Paris... time to find the girl. Already he had wasted too many years just acclimating himself to this day and age. Also, he'd allowed himself to be distracted too often. Still... it was too bad... he'd rather hoped to have Amanda before he left. He'd rather enjoyed letting her sense him and then pulling back. But he doubted she'd be alone again anytime soon. A wicked laugh wanted to boil up as he thought of taking her. Rivka's prize student! It would be one more way to have his revenge for what they had done to him. Another time perhaps... another time. But, first things first... and he had an idea for an exit from Paris... one last parting shot that would have them all quaking in terror. Snickering at the irony of immortals holed up on holy ground in fear of him... he turned and slipped away into the night.


	57. Chapter 54

****

Chapter 54

Amy pulled her ringing cell phone from her pocket. One glance told her it was Joe.

"I just saw it on the news... what happened?" Joe's voice sounded tense.

"There's a police barricade up... I really can't get close enough to see much but it appears our mysterious immortal has struck again."

There was a strangled gasp on the other end.

"Joe? Are you all right?"

"Yeah... How bad... Can you tell?"

"The story I'm over-hearing from people who were in the metro station when the train pulled in agree it was bad. Their numbers and details vary. I think most saw the blood-splattered windows and just ran."

"No luck on MacLeod?" Amy could hear the desperation and worry in her father's voice.

"No... As I said last time... evidently he and Amanda are together... and some friend of the current club owner's."

"That friend could be Nick Wolfe. Have you tried Darius' old church?"

Amy narrowed her gaze as she shifted the phone from one ear to the other. "Why there?" she asked as she pulled the Paris map from her pocket and checked the address and location of _St. Julian le Pauvre_.

"Both Amanda and Nick are close friends with Liam Riley... He's one of the priests there."

"What does his Watcher say?"

"Nothing... he hasn't filed any reports for three days. In fact... several Watchers in Paris have apparently gone missing. The Council is in an uproar. Amy... you need to find MacLeod... and then get the hell outta there."

"They're bringing bodies out now Joe..." Amy whispered. "Looks like they'll be making a statement soon."

"I'll watch the news... you find MacLeod. Now get out of there." Joe's call ended suddenly.

Amy stood for a moment longer... considering what to do. MacLeod hadn't really known Liam Riley... so she and Joe had not really considered that avenue of thought. Besides... the immortal priest generally split his time between two parishes. Joe was right... If MacLeod were still with Amanda and Nick Wolfe... they might conceivably have gone to the church. The disappearance of several Watchers worried Amy. Joe hadn't said how many... and evidently no bodies had yet been found. But if Watchers were vanishing... then this unknown immortal knew of them... and was clearing the way to get to the other immortals unseen.

Amy watched as the body bags were loaded into the ambulances. Was this a feint? Was the immortal killing mortals on a grand scale to keep the authorities focused on another area while he performed his real activities in secret? But if so... what about Maillot? What about Cassius? Or was he merely building on the terror? Had there been someone on the metro and the immortal had just taken the entire train out? Amy shivered in the darkness, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. Swallowing her terror... she raised her arm to flag a passing taxi.

***

****

Seacouver

Joe fumed silently as he'd hung up on Amy! He turned up the volume on the news channel with the remote to catch the report. "Seventeen passengers and crew..." He turned the volume back down and leaned against the pillows propped up against the headboard. The body count was rising. Joe had no doubt that the immortal had perpetrated this act as well. And there was something about this that teased at his mind... something very old... 

Joe returned to the database and began searching with a fury. There was an old chronicle... of an immortal long thought dead... something about his reign of death and destruction on a grand scale... He stopped at the file. While there was nothing but a thumbnail description of the dead immortal's activities here... and while no photo or painting existed... there was a rough sketch showing a twisted face above an arm slashing away at helpless victims... Joe could remember discussing this one when he was in training decades ago. He and James Horton and Ian Bancroft had sat around a bar one night discussing the careers of some of the old ones and how glad they were that some of them were long dead.

This one's name had come up in the conversation. Whole towns had fallen to him once upon a time. Whole nations had trembled at his approach. Demon some had called him. Eighteen hundred years ago, he'd vanished... The Chronicle spoke of an alliance of immortals who had destroyed him... but no Watcher had seen the final battle... nor did the Chronicle mention who the alliance had been composed of... although one member of it was thought to have been the barbarian general known as Darius.

"Nestor," whispered the Watcher. "Somehow... it has to be Nestor..." Joe glanced up at the opening door and growled, "I thought I told you to leave me alone!"

But it was Anne Lindsey... not Mariah Hutchinson. Instantly Joe regretted his outburst. He closed the window on his computer screen and looked at Anne sheepishly, "Busted I guess."

"Oh you are right about that one, Joe." Anne crossed the room and pulled the laptop from his hands... then passed it to Mrs. Hutchinson. "I said within reason... Seems you are not being reasonable."

"Anne... you don't understand!" Joe stared meaningfully at Anne.

Anne regarded him quietly. "Mrs. Hutchinson... I don't think the sedative will be necessary... but perhaps he'd like some dinner. Right Joe... maybe some soup."

Defeated for the moment, Joe nodded, "Soup sounds fine."

"Well if you say so," Hutchinson spat out, then left the room... taking the laptop with her.

"Anne... I need that," Joe pleaded.

"Not unless you explain to me just what you are doing..."

"You're not a Watcher Anne... I can't just..."

"Interfere? But you are interfering. This has to do with Duncan and I want to know what is going on! Either you tell me... or I _will_ order that sedative." 

There was an iron resolve in Anne's voice... one that Joe knew he could never bend. He sighed and glanced at the open door, but Anne made no move to close it. Finally Joe sat up straighter and whispered, "There's an old one..." he paused... then continued when Anne nodded, "he's responsible for what's happening. I have to get the word to... our friend."

Anne's shoulders sagged in her sudden comprehension. Her face reflected her concern. "How can I help?"

"By letting me get all the facts together so that he'll know who and what he is facing."

Anne nodded, "Are you in touch with him?"

Joe shook his head. "He's vanished... His Watcher has vanished... Amy's in Paris searching for him. I've tried the cell phone number I had... but it's no longer functioning. He may have changed phones... or..."

"So he could already be..." Anne's voice trailed off as she sat heavily into the chair at Joe's bedside.

"I don't think so." Joe found himself wanting to console her. She was being pulled back into this... and Joe knew MacLeod would not be happy about it. "I just think he may have switched phones for a while." It didn't make sense... but it was possible.

Mrs. Hutchinson returned at that moment with a tray. Hot soup steamed on it... she expertly put it on the tray table and arranged it for Joe. Then she stood over him with an air of power. "Eat!"

Joe grinned. "Yes, ma'am!" He lifted the spoon and began sipping the soup... painfully aware that he was hungrier than he had realized.

"That will be all, Mrs. Hutchinson... and close the door on your way out, please." Anne finally said quietly.

After she'd gone... Anne watched Joe eat. Finally she cleared her throat. "I will let you have the laptop back... but Joe... you have to behave. In all conscience as your doctor... I cannot allow you to become so wrought over this."

Joe looked at her and nodded his agreement.

"Gather the information. Give it to Amy and then stay out of this." She lifted her hand in warning at his objection. "Joe... you've been shot... You nearly died. You're still recovering. Your wounds are healing... but you are still weak and your system is depleted. You need rest."

"I need to be certain those I care about are safe, damnit!" Joe interjected.

"Then be sensible. Get what you need... pass the information on... Let me help! I know convalescence can be frustrating, but if you fight me on this... you may wind up back in the hospital... or worse... you could die. Now then... have I made myself clear!" Anne's voice rose only slightly... but the iron resolve was evident once more.

Joe nodded. "My laptop?"

"After you finish eating!" Anne crossed her legs and folded her arms across her chest. She leaned back in the wooden chair and watched him eat. Good thing she had a baby-sitter willing to stay with Mary tonight... Anne had a feeling she wouldn't be leaving Joe's anytime soon.


	58. Chapter 55

****

Chapter 55

Northeastern France

Methos had begun to wonder if Eleanor would come to bed at all. Ever since that odd moment earlier... she'd found one reason and then another to spend time with Derrick... and away from him. Outwardly... she seemed the same... teasing... laughing... at ease... but he had sensed a wall arising between them once again.

He glanced up from regarding his outstretched feet on the bed when she entered their bedroom and quietly shut the door behind her. She crossed to the dresser and began brushing her hair. Methos rolled his eyes... He knew that was a sure sign she was upset. Slowly he rose to stand behind her... meeting the steady gaze of her reflection.

"Is he asleep?"

"He should be soon."

"That wasn't me... I would never hurt him!" He rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. Eleanor leaned against him and closed her eyes as though she were deep in thought. As yet, he could sense nothing from her. The wall was shutting her feelings off from him. She took a deep breath and met his gaze in the mirror.

Slowly she turned to face him. "I know that... but I also know what I felt... It was an undeniable hatred... jealousy... fear of loss." She turned back to the dresser and began once more to brush her hair..

Methos closed his eyes and dug deep within himself. He _was_ jealous of the attention she gave Derrick... but did he fear to lose her? Would that fear, one day, turn to a killing rage? He let out a long breath. "I'm not the man I was, Eleanor... I will never be that man again. That man has been dead for three thousand years."

"I know that. But I also remember what you told me once... about teachers killing students, and students killing teachers, and about lovers killing one another. Is that what's in store for us one day?"

"He kissed the top of her head and wrapped his long arms about her small body pulling her close. "Never... You are a part of me now... You always will be. When I said those words... I was willing to let you go... now I'm not... I can't. Perhaps it was just a fear of losing you... that you were regretting your choice."

She rose her hands to his face... her fingers trailed lightly on the symbols still visible on his neck. An almost electric thrill went through him... he turned her once more to face him as he let the sensation move through him. "I chose you... Methos... even before I knew I'd made a choice... I chose you!" she whispered into his chest.

He let his own hands cup her face and turn it upward to meet his kiss. "And I chose you... long ago... and waited for you." They still had memories to explore... both theirs and the old ones... perhaps the answers were there. Even as he backed toward the bed... pulling her with him... he thought he could hear his cell phone ringing... but it seemed very far away... and not at all important. At least... nowhere nearly as important as finding the answers that lay buried within them.

****************

__

Within the Standing Stones, in the "before" time

D'jann fell to his knees within the stones and tried to calm his dis-ordered mind. He had felt so happy to be back. His wanderings had taken him to many places and he had visited with many of the people. In all places there were small ones... in all places the people had questions. At each location... he had gathered people who continued the journey with him.

Around the edge of the great world they had gone... letting ocean bear them to distant lands where water did not flow and into lands covered always with snow where night seemed to last forever. He and the rest visited each of the holy sites known to them... speaking with all the groups. "What do the small ones mean? Do our numbers grow for a reason? Perhaps someone at the next camp will know." And the seeking had gone on for more lives of the others than he had ever thought possible.

In his own heart and mind... his family and his group of people were far away... mere shadows of thought on the edge of his mind. Far more important was the seeking of the answers. The people needed to know what to do... what the future held for them... their purpose beyond guarding the holy sites and caring for the others... D'jann had been determined to find the answers.

At last their journeys had led them to the great circle where the first of the people had once been. Only one remained in that place, crowned with hair as blinding white in the sun as light itself... and a beard that hung long from his chin... below piercing blue eyes that reflected the wideness of the sky itself. Arrayed about the Ancient were the swords. To a member of each tribe he gave them. "They will usher in the new age," he had told them. And they had taken them... not knowing what it was they took... Almost immediately a voice had whispered to D'jann that with the sword, justice was possible... all he had to do was wield it. D'jann did not know if the others had heard the voice... he had never asked.

At night... dreams of leading his people into a new day filled his mind... and by day... visions of a bright future for them all. He had at long last journeyed home... and found nothing as he remembered it.

His people were no longer his people. They had moved on in their lives during his absence. About the camp were many he did not know... many he'd never known. The ones he did recall... they smiled at him and welcomed him home... but did not seem eager for his words... as if what he brought meant nothing.

Only Aja had truly welcomed him... First daughter had smiled with joy and kissed him... throwing her arms about him and bidding him to her home to share a meal. She had many questions... "Had he found the answers? Why did the small ones come? What was their future?" 

With her was a small one he did not know. There were so many small ones in this place... How many lifetimes had he been gone? The others were strangers as well... and there were even more of them... and they did not know him at all! D'jann thanked Aja blessing the small one with a gentle touch to her dark head... but his thoughts had been of Ga'el and he had gone there... And it was there that he had seen them... They looked at him as if to say "Welcome!" But he had left... feeling no welcome for his return in that place. Now he sat here by the holy altar where he and Ga'el had once pledged unity and tried to sort through all the thoughts and feelings he was experiencing.

Ga'el entered the standing stones quietly and approached him. "You were gone from this place too long D'jann... I chose another. You must accept that choice."

"But we are one!" D'jann lashed out at her yet even as he said he knew it was not so... and had not been for ages.

"We still are... We will always be one... but Morannan is a part of my life as well. In your long absence... I have chosen him. He and I are not one as you and I were... but we are happy. All is as it must be. The people flourish... the lands are warm... The others are safe. Life continues."

Her calmness grated on his disquiet... and beneath it all... the voice of the sword whispered that he should take charge once more... He was the seeker... He had done what he was supposed to do... The people must listen to his words. He brought the future. She did not understand what she had done. She did not understand what he had done... for her... for them all.

Ga'el knelt beside him. "We are not as the others D'jann... We were fools to attempt that... We are the people... together the people are one. "

Behind her he sensed his friend Morannan... standing there... uncertain as to what he should do. Morannan... the judge... the mediator... always the one who settled disputes... the final voice in all disagreements. How was he to judge when he was involved?

What was there to say? What would change what was? D'jann shook his head and felt alone... as he had never felt alone. She was still a part of him... but she had withdrawn behind a wall that he could not breach. He had felt her go long ago... but in his blindness had never sought to know the reason. Instead... he had chosen to give her time and he had journeyed to the corners of the world saying nothing to her... simply leaving. Now home... he had thought she would open her heart to him once more... but she did not... at least not as he would have wanted it.

Whispering on the wind... the voice of his visions insisted he take her back... She was his! She was bound to him! He should take her! Only by reclaiming her could the future he dreamed of be possible for the people! D'jann reached for Ga'el.

Startled at his grasp... Ga'el struggled to move back... uncertain what it was that seemed to blaze within him. He crushed her to him and kissed her insistently... his hands ranging over her body... igniting the union as his fingers brushed the patterns that blazed hotly on her bare skin. Still she struggled in his embrace... attempting only to push him from her. Her struggles only strengthened his resolve to make her understand... they were one! They had always been one! They would always be one!

It was then that Morannan grabbed at him... attempting to loosen his grip from Ga'el! D'jann fell backward... his senses raging in anger at the interruption... the voice whispering urgently that he must reclaim her! He drew forth the sword... seeking to show that his was the just claim... long ago they had chosen one another. He still chose her... She was his!

Morannan stood between them... once more the judge... "Put it away D'jann... It is Ga'el's choice... It must always be Gae'l's choice. You cannot force her to choose you!"

In rage and anger, D'jann swung the sword and watched wordlessly as Morannan's head fell from his body. A great power erupted... the force of all his friend's being... crackled into the night... It surged out among the standing stones and rebounded back from them to surge out and in again and again. As though the world was de-lineated by the stones themselves... the power erupted into the sky and shook the earth beneath his feet in a convulsion of terror. The air was as breathing fire and there was no release.

D'jann threw wide his arms and screamed into the lightning as he was buffeted by both wind and rain and the tremors of the earth! He was one with the four elements of existence!

Falling to his knees in the aftermath... he heard only her sobs. She cradled Morannan's body and wept. Not in the many lives of the others had he ever heard her weep. Already he sensed the people approaching... curious as to what had happened. He reached for Ga'el... 

She who was healer to the others saw that no healing existed for her. She saw only emptiness and a darkness that was deeper than all the despair that had ever been. She grasped the strange weapon... _sword_ it whispered to her... and pulled it back to destroy him as he had destroyed her. But even as she saw the sadness of his eyes... she saw that in him lived all that remained of Morannan... her beloved lived in him... but her beloved was lost to her... In the despair of the moment... she wished only release... an end to the endless life... She turned the sword in her hands... and even as the people arrived... she managed to use it... on herself... Screaming Morannan's name on the wind... she fell lifeless... as her head rolled away from her falling body.

Once again the lightning erupted and prevented the people from entering the holy site. Once more the earth rolled and heaved in the convulsions of the power released. The clouds rolled in and the storm broke once more as wind and rain and fire combined to mirror the tortured earth. As the lightning faded... D'jann struggled to his feet and looked about in confusion and despair. She was gone... rather than remain with him she was gone! He grasped the great sword and blindly began swinging it about him... How dare they allow her to leave! They should have stopped her!

Again and again the lightning crackled and the world wrenched in horror. And somehow... D'jann knew it was much the same in all the holy places of the world.

**********

Her back was to him. He could hear her sobs. Softly... gently... Methos let his arms surround the shivering Eleanor pulling her once more toward him and whispering into her ear, "Don't cry... my love... I won't let it happen again... I'm not D'jann... even if Aja thought I might be. I'm not him... I'm not!"

In the darkness... he could still hear his cell phone ringing insistently.


	59. Chapter 56

****

Chapter 56

Paris

Phillip tried Methos' cell once more. Still no answer! He left another voice message! "Call me!" and then shut it off abruptly. Kenny's description of the attacker had been the final piece. Phillip was certain now who it was... and why. It had to be... it was the only reasonable explanation. Nestor was free... and out for blood!

"So exactly who is this guy... this Nestor?" asked Nick. He was still indignant that the Swordmaster had brought Kenny into their group. He worried that the boy immortal would lash out at any of them at any time. Already Kenny and Val were eyeing one another with suspicion. He wanted answers... not just a name!

Phillip tapped his cell phone against his forehead three times and then looked up at all of them... waiting for his explanation. But how could he explain? Certainly not the truth! But what else was there? "You know how they say that your sins come back to haunt you?"

"What did you do, Phillip?" MacLeod's voice was raw... as if he had been down this road before. Of course he had... when he'd learned exactly who Methos was and what he'd done... the man he'd once been.

Phillip cleared his throat. "Nestor was the first immortal I met after my first death. The one who explained to me that we were put on this earth to rule all life. We were the masters and mortals were merely our chattel. I did not believe him. When I had the chance... I left his army and traveled back to my home to find the Oracle... she who had trained me in life. But Danae was long gone... and there were no answers for me there. The Nestor I knew had been one of the great heroes of Troy... or one of its most depraved villains... depends on your side.

"Troy?" remarked Duncan suddenly. "Graham Ashe was at Troy!"

Phillip nodded, "Aye... not by that name, of course, but he was with Nestor as well for a time. I think Nestor had actually killed him the first time. He had a penchant for torturing immortals to death again and again. He liked the power. As I said, the old legends of my youth say he was the oldest and wisest of the captains who sailed against Troy... or the most wicked and most feared of its plunderers. Take your pick." Phillip plopped into the armchair dejectedly. "It was better to be his enemy! He merely took the heads of his enemies... Those he liked..." Phillip shook his head, "were not so lucky. Nestor knew a thousand ways to get what he wanted... No one defied him for long."

"What does he want with Alisaunne?"

"I'm not certain... I never met the girl. I never heard her spoken of nor knew Darius was watching out for a girl. But I do recall that Nestor once spoke of hoping to find a certain kind of immortal... a rare one... one who even before first death... was immortal." 

"That's impossible," Duncan laughed. Then he sobered. "How would he know?"

Phillip shrugged, "He never shared that with me."

"So how did you defeat him? Why isn't he dead?" Amanda insisted.

Phillip stared at all of them. "We couldn't kill him... not without destroying all of us as well."

"We?"

"You know that one-on-one rule MacLeod? It wasn't always that way. Even now... some immortals play with that one."

"Who helped?" Duncan straightened as he said it... but Phillip could see in his eyes that he already thought he knew the answer.

Phillip nodded. "It was the event that cemented our friendship. That made it last over the centuries."

"I still don't get it," Amanda interrupted. "So a group of you went after this Nestor. So why is he not dead?"

Phillip closed his eyes and shuddered at the real reason. But now was not the time for that truth... if ever. Finally he looked at them all... peering into each set of questioning eyes and saying softly, "Because of the rule of holy ground, Amanda. We couldn't kill him... but we could... restrain him... we could bury him so that he'd never again see the light of day."

"Well... I guess we know now how well that worked." Duncan's voice betrayed his bitterness. "How many people are dead because you and ... your friends couldn't finish the job!"

Nick exploded in anger. "You buried an immortal alive and then left him to dig his way out! People are dead! Immortals are dead! Just who were these friends of yours?"

"And how many more would be dead if we hadn't tried?" Phillip responded evenly. "As to who they were... most are dead now... of those that remember it all... only the doctor and I remain."

"Edmund?" asked Val suddenly piping in. "Is he so old?"

Phillip said nothing. Methos' identity was one he was sworn to keep. MacLeod obviously knew... and Amanda knew of him without knowing everything... but to the others... he was different men... he was the doctor. He hit re-dial on his cell phone, exasperated that his ancient friend was not picking up. Surely nothing could be as important as the knowledge that Nestor was loose upon the world once more.

The sound of the outer doors brought Duncan to the door of the cell. He watched a young woman walk through the nave and up to the office entrance.

"Duncan MacLeod?" she said. "I'm Amy Brennan-Thomas... Joe Dawson sent me."

Duncan nodded, "How is he?" He stood aside as he motioned her to enter glancing about the deserted church as he did so.

She smiled, "Stubborn as ever and anxious to talk to you." Glancing around to note who was present, her shoulders sagged momentarily as if saddened that the one face she had hoped to see was not here. She pulled out a cell phone and made a connection. A few moments later she handed the phone to Duncan.

"Mac... you and Methos... you gotta find this guy..."

"Yeah... we're working on it."

"Tell Methos it's Nestor... It's got to be."

"We figured that out already."

"Damn... he musta been one of the group... thought as much... He and Darius and a few others... they banded together to kill this guy... but he retreated to holy ground with his army and followers and they couldn't get him off. Meanwhile he was slaughtering men, women, children, anyone he could find. He killed anyone he could get his hands on and was known to torture immortals to death over and over and over again."

"Joe... when did he surface again?"

"I've been collating some references that didn't make sense... Understand Mac... we didn't have anything concrete... but taken as a whole... I'd say twenty years ago."

"Why twenty?"

"An immortal who died recently was used by another immortal rather shabbily earlier in her life. He tortured her to death several times... until she managed to get away. It's what got me thinking. Nestor was said to do something similar to other immortals in the old Chronicles. I don't have all the records here... but I studied them years ago. The guy must have been a really sick son-of-a-bitch! For centuries we all thought he was dead... that they'd killed him... but we had no confirmation."

"Why did it take him so long to start making his move so publicly."

"There's nothing current... just some odds and ends that might be him... but Mac... be careful... This guy is bad news!"

"Rest easy Joe. We'll get him."

"Yeah... well get some help! Don't try this one alone. Don't let your Scots sense of fair-play and honor lead the way. This guy doesn't believe in honor."

Duncan smiled, "I am what I was taught to be Joe... I'm the 'champion'."

"I know Mac... I know," Joe said sadly. Then he continued, "Put Amy back on." 

Duncan handed the young woman her phone. He turned back to the others. "Joe thinks it's Nestor as well. So now... how do we handle this? I'm for getting to _Ste. Genevieve_ and getting Alisaunne out of there. If this guy uses holy ground as his personal killing field... then she's not safe there and neither is anyone else." Duncan was not certain that even Ursa would be a match for so vicious an immortal as this Nestor apparently was.

"We have to be certain he doesn't follow any of us there." Phillip agreed... "We need to split up and try to draw him out...."

"Excuse me..." The immortals glanced at the young Watcher. "He may have left Paris already. He killed seventeen people on a metro a few hours ago. Joe told me that was usually a sign that he was moving on. He'd do one last random mass killing before vanishing into the wilderness until he'd return years later and start the cycle over again."

"Seventeen," said Marie-France sadly. She fingered her rosary as she continued to stare out the small window.

"Then we can't wait any longer," whispered Duncan hoarsely. "We go now!"

Nick laughed, "I don't think six of us will fit into your _Citroen_. Besides... I'm not too keen on Val and Marie-France being involved... nor in leaving them behind... unguarded.

"Seven!" sneered Kenny. "There's seven of us counting me." He sniffed a bit haughtily. "Val and I may be small... but we are not helpless."

"There's my car... " offered Amanda. "but it only seats two."

"And my SUV," said Nick. "If you'll drop me off back over at _Sanctuary_... I can pick it up and come back for the others. I can carry four easily."

Phillip nodded at Duncan, "And we can head on... you... Amanda and me. We're the best fighters... the most experienced." He leveled his gaze at Valeraine who nodded her agreement. She'd keep an eye on Kenny... if he wanted to come.

Duncan turned to Amy, "What about you?"

Amy shrugged, "I'm under orders not to follow. I would appreciate getting a report... Perhaps my friend the doctor will fill me in?"

Duncan eyed her quizzically. "Just who are you, exactly?"

Amy smiled, "Joe's my father. I owe... the doctor... his life... as I do mine."

Duncan nodded recalling that Methos had mentioned that Joe had a daughter when the Watcher had been shot. "You sent the book... the one from my apartment?"

Amy nodded. "All he told me was to get it and send it. As you well know... he doesn't really answer questions... but I gather there was something about that book that made him think it was needed for something you two were working on."

Duncan nodded. "Have you a ride?"

"Taxi... waiting outside. Go... you have your jobs to do... Mine is done... for the moment. I hope to see all of you again sometime." She stood aside then and watched the four immortals leave. She smiled at the three who would wait... wondering how such beings ever survived. Two children and a meek young woman... none of them seemed especially capable. She had only caught bits and pieces of the conversation... wherever this _Ste. Genevieve_ was... she hoped for all their sakes, that they were successful in their endeavors. 

Amy nodded her farewells and slowly exited the church. As she stood for a moment in the darkness and stared at the night sky... she felt a sense of purpose in her life that she had not felt for years. She wasn't just a researcher working on locating the threads that would lead to better understanding of the oldest of immortals... nor was she just a Watcher... hiding in the shadows. Amy was a player. Yes... she had interfered... and would do so again... if it meant that the immortals who were friends of mankind would be able to overcome their enemies. She was no longer conflicted about that... nor was she conflicted about Joe... He was her father... He was her friend. She was determined that in whatever time was left for them... they would truly get to know one another.

With a surer step... Amy Brennan-Thomas headed for the cab. 


	60. Chapter 57

****

Chapter 57

Northeastern France

Methos lay on his left side... his back to Eleanor. Behind him she shifted and moved. He wanted to turn to her... but this too was necessary. She needed to explore the patterns initially placed on his back as he had explored hers. He could feel her fingers trace lightly over them... as she held herself close to him.

In this way he was seeing her life... from the time she had left him... feeling that he had turned away from her... Methos saw through her eyes her wanderings and her long search to find somewhere to belong... Joy coursed through her in the Black Forest when they met once more... only to feel once more the walling off of his feelings. He'd sent her away... to Paris.

It was the memories of Paris that tore most at him. At long last he understood her fascination with Paris and with Darius. Yet even then... all Methos had ever had to do was beckon and she came. But nothing was ever resolved. He'd kept her at arm's distance... never certain he wanted more than just their friendship... and yet desiring her... if only for a little while before he'd move on. So she had remained... poised between the two of them... waiting... but neither one of them had ever been willing to cast off who and what they were... what they had become... Neither man was ever willing to fully commit. Like the chess games he and Darius had played for centuries... she was the queen they had both wanted... but neither had been willing to take the final step.

"_There is a difference between love and desire_," the old memories of Ga'el had once spoken to Aja and Havron. "_Be certain what you feel is love... for desire fades... and when it does... if there is no love... then there is only emptiness_."

Methos reached behind with one arm to stroke her leg. "I do love you... you know... You were a part of everyone I have ever loved... even before I ever met you... Aja told me you would be... Now when I recall all of them... I feel you there."

She sighed with a contented laugh. "Perhaps we had to go through everything so that we would finally come to understand and be certain. Desire... we always had that... But love? ... I was never certain."

"One more," he whispered. "The last one... and then our lives are ours once more... and the choices we make for the future will be made in the understanding of the past."

He felt her shift away... and then her back was to his... He shifted... as did she... until they were locked once more into another time and place.

**********

__

Within the Standing Stones, in the "before" time

The lightning died away. D'jann gazed about him in horror at the dead. In his rage and despair... lost in the need for justice... he had killed many of the people. They lay like broken cordwood as dead as the others. All his dreams and hopes for a future lay with them.

In his hands the sword seemed to glow red. "Justice!" it whispered. "They have paid for their crime... now you will rebuild the world."

D'jann dropped the blade to the earth and sank to his knees wailing. "My people are dead! How can I rebuild a world! What kind of world would it be without my love in it." Vaguely he was aware that Aja cautiously approached.

"My father... you must let this pass." Aja knelt beside him and wrapped her arms about him. But she was not Ga'el and only her touch could reach him... Still... there might be a way he could be healed... if he could but find her. D'jann grasped the hated blade once more and lifted it to first daughter.

"Take my head child... I cannot bear the guilt. I would find Ga'el and beg forgiveness... I would find Morannan and offer friendship. My life for theirs... I cannot exist without them. They were my left hand and my right... they were my heart and my soul... I am lost."

Behind her, Kritis and Havron also approached. In the distance... beyond the edge of the stones... D'jann sensed the remains of the people... and the small ones. Further off... the others confused and frightened... many huddling in their carrocks and hovels.

"All of you... be as one... take my head and together lead our people from this place. I have judged... now judge me! Justice must be served!"

He lifted the sword toward all of them, startled that they did not immediately seize it and deal with him. With his death the rift might be healed... the first ones were gone... the eldest of the people lay dead about him... only the firstborn remained... They must finish it!

"You cannot ask this!" Aja said.

"I will not!" Havron insisted and stepped back. "Death only begets more death... Yours will surely lead to more. You must bear the loss... you must bear the guilt... Only then with time can you be healed."

Kritis's chest heaved with his own pain. Sofaer... she whom he had come to love lay among the dead. She who was compassion had attempted to offer such to D'jann and had died for her efforts. For Kritis... there was only rage!

He seized the sword from D'jann's outstretched hands and raised it to give him the deathblow for which he waited.

Aja's hands restrained her brother. "We cannot do this!"

Kritis glared at her. "He asks for this. Alone I would be lost... Together... we three can end this nightmare here and now!" Within his hands the sword whispered of the justice of this. If the three of them joined together in that stroke... they would lead the people into the light. But the sword glowed an almost feral red in the setting sun.

"Please Aja," D'jann muttered. "I need for this to be done." He rose higher on his knees and bowed his outstretched head.

Aja's heart felt torn. She wanted D'jann to live... she wanted him to find comfort and peace. But what if there was no peace any longer for him with the people? Her hands closed on the hilt of the great sword alongside Kritis' hands. "_Use me_," it whispered. "_I am the justice of the people. I am that which will lead the way_." Aja hesitated... "Havron?" But her beloved had left the circle... unwilling to be party to this. Aja's eyes met Kritis'. Together they would do this... together they would mete out justice. Together... they swung the great sword across D'jann's neck and world exploded in fire about them. They reveled in the power... and as one... they moved beyond the standing stones to lead the way and offer death to those who would not follow.

***

Havron stumbled down to the shoreline and stared at the distant horizon. Behind him the screams of the dying filled the air... but he felt helpless. He could not be a part of this... Aja was lost to him now... as surely as if she were dead.

She and Kritis moved among the others... slaughtering them. They pulled them screaming from their hiding places and dispatched them with a sense of righteousness. The others were ridiculously easy to kill... one stroke and they died. The people would rise unless their heads were removed... and so they were. And the small ones... died twice. Once to be reborn... and then for all time.

Many ran... some of the people escaped into the wilderness... some of the others... a few of the small ones. They ran in terror with no understanding of the horror that had befallen them all. The world had become a killing field... and offered no respite to any of them.

Havron felt her come and turned to face she whom he still loved. But this was not the Aja he knew... This was a creature with blazing green eyes, who was covered in blood. He waited. He would not run... Behind her... Kritis also approached.

"Join us," she said and reached for him... kissing him so that he tasted the blood of the people. Havron held her only a moment... wishing that it were possible... then he pushed her away. A glint of light on the ring of gold he'd given her when they had finally performed the unity caught his eye. Kritis had made that for him... to show him what wonders were possible with a forge. Havron had given his treasure to Aja... in token of his commitment to her. Now he pulled it from her hand and placed it once more on his own.

The blaze in her eyes seemed to fade. "Beloved?" For a moment she was herself once more. He turned from her and slowly walked away. 

Aja reached after him... confused. Her eyes fell on the headless form of the small one of their household... a child so small and so endearing that she had brought joy in her wake. Her eyes suddenly opened, Aja screamed at the enormity of what she had done and fell to her knees. "Forgive me?" she cried to Havron's departing form.

"Forgive yourself," he snapped at her... and left. He had thought she or Kritis would kill him as well... but they hadn't... Both of them seemed to have recovered and come to understand the madness of their actions. He left them to face their guilt. It would take many lifetimes of the others to do so. He would wait. One day she would come... one day he would forgive her... but not today. Today... he hardened his heart and wept for the end of all that had been.

**********

Aja had never told him that last part of the story. She'd said only that madness had taken her after killing D'jann. Methos shivered at the horror. Behind him he could hear Eleanor sobbing once more. He rolled onto his back and wrapped his arms about her... feeling her turn toward him once more... 

He kissed her tears, "It's done... it's finished..."

"It will always be with us..."

"But it not all that we are. We are not them... we made other choices."

"Did we? We've both used that sword... we've both killed with it... far too easily."

"But we chose not to use it again." He brushed her dark hair away from her face. "We make our own choices Eleanor... We are not bound by what was. We only need to understand it so that we can keep it from happening again."

"But can we? Already the seeds of the past are planted once more... Derrick..."

"Is not Darius reborn... You told me that... remember? But if some remnant of him is there... we will deal with it when the time comes. I am not D'jann reborn. You are not Aja reborn. We just have some part of their memories within us. We are not them," Methos insisted. "We are not them."

He kissed her then... the ghosts of the past were silent... and she was only his wife... his heart... the other half of himself... warm and pliant in his arms... returning his kiss. He rolled onto her then... and without the distraction of the patterns... made love to her. 


	61. Chapter 58

****

Chapter 58

London

At last the vault was open. 

It had taken Barlow far too long to accomplish it and now that it was open... Cassandra had no patience left for anything. Sitting and waiting had only increased her anger. Only Methos could set up so elaborate a system to safeguard his possessions she was certain... but if it was Methos... why hadn't the Greek ever told her? Already she was concerned that he'd seemed to have been able to withstand her voice... he had not contacted her with additional information regarding the crystal. How was it he had the strength to ignore her?

Angrily Cassandra pushed Barlow out of her way. He had served his purpose... he was only a distraction now.

Cassandra entered the vault... watching as lights automatically flickered on. Her eyes grazed over the file cabinets and the shelves... taking in the array of old books... artifacts... swords from all ages... pottery... artwork. She crossed to the file cabinet roughly pulling out the drawers and flipping through the files... Watcher records... files on Methos... files on MacLeod... files on her... files on all the immortals she had ever heard of and many she did not know. Angrily she pulled file after file from the drawers seeking answers and tossing them about when they gave none. Soon the cabinet was empty. So much knowledge... such an accumulation of worthless facts that told her nothing.

Was it _him_? Was this _his_ hiding place? Was this where he came to plot his evil upon them all? Did he sit at that desk like a spider and spin his webs of deceit to ensnare all immortals in his evil? She turned to the shelves... tossing the pottery off so that it smashed on the floor and slinging the artifacts about with careless abandon. One by one she cleared the shelves of their treasures. It had to be here! Finally she saw it... far back in a corner on the lowest shelf it lay... dusty, wrapped in a piece of dark blue velvet. Cassandra reverently pulled it toward her and lifted it off the shelf... cradling it in her hands. With an eager smile she grasped the crystal and removed its protective cover. Cool and rough it lay in her hands... She rubbed her fingers over it... attempting to beckon forth the light and the vision it had once held... but she saw nothing. There was no glow of green... no vision of past nor future. There was nothing. It was only a worthless old crystal... and there were no answers within it for her. Cassandra wordlessly voiced her despair. Even this was denied her! Even this he had stolen from her and destroyed!

Behind her Barlow whistled. Cassandra looked sharply at him, drawing in a sharp breath. The fool was crouched before a stack of paintings, admiring one of them. Casually she rose to her feet and crossed the vault until she stood behind him.

The oil painting was of Phillip's student... the one he called Little Sister... the one who'd once been married to Lord Edward Gray when they'd stolen the crystal over five hundred years ago. Painted in the pre-Raphaelite style of the late nineteenth century... Ellie stood nude in a pool of water... a lush green landscape about her... a red rose in her hair... as though she were some lush nymph arising from the water. Her long black hair... hung behind her in cascades of ripples. One hand partially covered a breast as she gazed at the viewer with a look of both wonder and desire. To Cassandra, it was as though the girl were some faerie creature... caught and trapped for all time by a mortal's love.

Cassandra snarled and drew her sword. Angrily she slashed at the painting. He _loved_ her... he came here and he stared at her... and she was his... Again and again Cassandra slashed. She had been in the room with that creature... she had helped her with that boy... and Phillip had not told her they knew _him_... How long had he known? They had been together for at least five hundred years! Cassandra vented her rage on the canvas. 

Barlow backed away, "It must have been worth a fortune... Why Cassandra? Why destroy it? We came for the crystal... why this?"

"Because he loves her!" Cassandra turned and leered at Barlow. "Because for three thousand years I have waited to destroy him... and now I know how! I will take from him all that he has! All that he loves!"

"Who? This Gray chap? Who is he?"

"Death!" she screamed and slashed at him in her frustration that the crystal had given her nothing... that the painting had ripped her to shreds... that Phillip had not told her... that Methos had earned someone's love! Again and again she slashed until at last her sword found its mark.

As the quickening filled her and the explosions surrounded her... Cassandra felt a renewed sense of purpose. She would destroy him by taking everything from him. Nothing would remain. He would beg her to end his life... and she would be the one with the power. Even without the crystal's help she could sense the vision of the future... Methos would kneel to her and offer his head because he would have nothing left. Her gift of prophecy had returned. Triumphantly she howled into the maelstrom!

The files on the floor began to char and burn... the fires rose around her. Cassandra lowered her arms and backed out of the vault... grabbing only the crystal and the file marked "Land Purchases." She would find him... One by one she would destroy everything he owned. In the end... she would kill the girl as surely as she had destroyed the painting... or perhaps she would do far worse... She would destroy Ellie's love for Methos. Around her... Cassandra could sense the paths of the future... and all of them led to the destruction of her enemy.

Cassandra left the vault open so that the fire would rage and consume the entire house. She climbed once more to the top floor and exited through the roof... making her escape into the darkness.


	62. Entr'acte Three

****

Entr'acte

__

Paris, 839 c.e.

Never had Darius seen such a storm in this place.

The lightning crashed again and again in the night sky... offering a moment's illumination in the unending darkness of the night. The booming voice of the thunder crashed over and over as if there were no end to it. And the rain pounded, falling in what seemed to be solid sheets of water... as if the heavens themselves wept bitter tears for the world.

Shivering in the cold and the damp, Darius sat cross-legged against the willow wall of his shelter and concentrated on finding the peace within him that was lacking in the storm. He no longer heard the voice of the Ancient... he hadn't for centuries. Yet he still could feel a kernel of perfect peace within his soul if he concentrated. He could almost see it when his eyes were closed... almost touch it with his mind.

Like a small pearl buried deep within him it pulsed dimly. It had given him no answers in his life here... it had only offered peace. It had once spoken of love... but even that seemed illusory. There was no love for him... there was only the service he gave to others. He was alone and would remain so as long as he stayed in this place.

He had found the Ancient's old dwelling deep under the ground... in a cave covered with writings that made no sense. He had studied them by torchlight... seeking the answers that the old one's quickening had not revealed to him. But they remained a cipher. Whatever he had truly known... whatever the Ancient had learned and had lost... all these things were like that pearl... deep within him... just out of reach.

Darius opened his eyes with the stillness of the night. The storm had apparently stopped... as suddenly as it had begun. He could still hear rain drop slowly on the roof of this place and splatter on the earth. He could hear water in the nearby river rush by. He could hear the silence itself as though it were deafening in its very existence.

Then he felt the immortal.

Darius rose from his shelter and walked out into the night. Clouds still covered the sky... but a breeze was blowing from the west... and he could almost smell the tantalizing salt air of the faraway ocean. In his mind's eye he could almost see the heaving gray-green waves and feel the pull toward its murky depths. He smiled at the memory of the sunlit sea near his boyhood home... and his old desire to rule a kingdom that stretched from the seas of his past to the great ocean of the west. Foolishness, of course!

He found her huddled near the spring as he had known he would. It had to be Anya. She was cloaked in darkness as dark as the night itself and seemed somehow diminished... not the strong wandering woman he recalled from both his boyhood and his early days here. He reached to touch her and then pulled away.

Huddled on the ground was an aged crone with a face so lined that if it were not for those green eyes... he would not have known her. The white wisps of her hair blew in the wind. "Ahh... my little warrior... come to see me off?" Anya's voice cracked in the night as though words were hard for her to speak.

Darius knelt beside her and gently re-covered her head with the cloak. "Let me take you inside... I can build you a fire... warm you."

"No little warrior, no fire will warm me ever again... I had just enough life left to come... I've used it all up... given it away. I kept only enough so that I might return here to learn if I am yet forgiven."

"Whatever it was... Anya... the powers must forgive you." Darius offered gently. He pulled her up into his lap and held her. "You are an immortal... you cannot die. Whatever this aging is... we will find a way to reverse it."

"Oh Darius... all that live and breathe die in their time. My time has come. I have found them all and I have placed all the small ones reborn into the world. She was the last... I have given it all to her to heal the breach and end the division. Joy lives once more. Light returns to our world. My task is done... I have endured... I had sought to end the game... but the game outlives me... and I must leave its final outcome to those who remain. I had thought to bring her here for you to raise... but another opportunity presented itself. Yet still... she might come... someday. If she comes... guide her... teach her... love her... and send her out into the world to find the answers she must find."

"What other answers can there be Anya? Only by peace and by love can the game end. All of us must make that choice for ourselves. Can you who are so old, not understand that? Are you so old that not even immortality can sustain you?"

"I was when the world was young," she answered him. "Ask my beloved if he has forgiven me?" she pleaded. "I am at peace with what I did... I was young and foolish... I should have trusted his judgment. I should have listened to him. I did not and for that I lost him, and lost peace of mind and peace of soul. I have at long last accepted the guilt for my actions... can he not forgive me?"

Darius shook his head. Her words made no sense to him.

Anya lifted one hand and gently stroked his face with a smile. "You always were a surprise Darius... always the surprise." Her eyes glittered a moment. Deep within his soul, Darius felt the small kernel of the Ancient expand until it seemed as if it surrounded them both.

Love touched them and she smiled. She extended one finger and appeared to concentrate so that all the power of her life that remained surged into the light and joined with it. Even as it left her... she fell to dust as had the Ancient he had fought... Havron. All that remained of them flickered about Darius for a moment and then shrank once more into a pulsing pearl of light hidden deep within his soul. 

He had them both now... love and peace. They were as one, deep within him and he smiled in contentment. There were no great answers to his many questions... the words on the cavern wall were still a mystery as were their crimes... their past... but the two were as one within him, and they were at peace.

By morning light he buried her cloak and ashes by the well where once he had buried Havron's ashes. Their remains would rest together for all time in this place even as what remained of their souls would rest in peace deep within him. One part was still lost to them... but it would come. He who bore the soul of the third would come one day and the three would at last become one. Darius promised to wait... for only by that final union could the sword itself be cleansed of blood and guilt and the opening moves of the final game begun. All the other swords had been lost to the ages... some broken... some melted down... some destroyed. Only that one sword... that one he had wielded without anger remained. He did not fear it... for when it came for him... he would welcome its stroke and face the consequences of both past and future. Somehow Darius knew it was possible... they could achieve peace and live... not as one powerful immortal... but as one people... united in peace and love... facing a future in which they could all live.

Darius prayed with all that was in him that he might live to see that day.


	63. Part 4: Truth & Consequences Chapter 59

****

Part Four: Truth and Consequences

You are the sunshine/ I am the rain that falls in line

You are a candle/ and I am your darkness

You are the moonlight/ I am the cloud that passes by

You are a vision/ and I am blindness

And so it goes/ the story is far too old to know it all

~~from _On & On_ by Kevin Max

****

Chapter 59

Eastern France

Duncan was focused on the road he had so recently traveled. He floored the accelerator and wished that somehow he were there now! Even ninety miles an hour was too slow and was taking too long! He cornered a sharp bend in the road and had to slow to accommodate it... but as soon as the road straightened once more... he was off like a shot.

Amanda in the seat beside him gripped the upholstery and her seat belt... and stared at him with wide eyes. She loved driving fast... but being strapped helplessly into the passenger seat was not her idea of fun! "Duncan! Slow down. We won't help anybody if we die on the way!"

Duncan eased up slowly on the gas... but moments later had re-applied the pressure.

From the back seat he heard Phillip's curse. "Damn!"

"Still no answer?"

"No and there should be! It's been more than twenty-four hours since we last talked. I've left five messages! He's the one that told me to check in... to stay in touch!"

"Now you know how I felt after leaving Paris the last time!" Duncan spat between gritted teeth and turned sharply to avoid a slow-moving produce truck.

"So what is going on with Methos these days," Amanda jested, "I mean I know he likes to keep a low profile... but what could be so interesting that he'd drop out of sight completely. I mean if he knew about this guy... why vanish?"

Duncan glanced at Phillip's head-shake and said nothing.

Finally Phillip broached the subject. "He's protecting someone else... someone I was watching. He thought I could be a better help to MacLeod than he could. I am the better swordsman."

"But he's five thousand years old... Surely his knowledge in this would be of help?" Amanda was not going to let this go.

"I was there, too, Amanda... as was Rebecca... I knew Nestor... Methos did not. Not before."

"Rebecca?" Amanda turned to regard him. "Is that when you became friends?"

"No... we knew each other long before that. We were both in Athens during the time of Pericles. Of course... she wasn't Rebecca... then." Phillip smiled warmly recalling the banquets and gatherings the immortal that Amanda knew as Rebecca Horne had once hosted in Athens. Her home had been a gathering place for scholars, thinkers, men of distinction, mortals whose minds and spirits had opened Phillip's to the possibilities of art and philosophy.

Amanda nodded. "She always mentioned you with a smile. Where you lovers?"

"No..." Phillip chuckled, "We were just friends. Among our kind... friendship is a rare and wondrous thing. I always made it a habit never to choose an immortal lover..." his smile thinned, becoming a bit wispy. "Although there have been a few I might have considered if things were otherwise for our kind."

"Only mortals?"

Phillip nodded.

"However do you bear it when they die?"

"The same as I bear the loss of immortal friends when they die... I mourn them."

"Why don't you tell us about how you and Methos and the others defeated Nestor... I gathered you didn't want to say too much in front of the others... especially about Methos."

"His identity is one of the things I am sworn to protect. I can not speak of him among others who do not know him."

"Like Ellie?"

Phillip said nothing.

Amanda turned her head thoughtfully, "Ellie? Who is..." her voice trailed away and her eyes closed. A moment later they opened and she went on as if there had been no interruption, "Duncan you really should slow down. If we crash we'll survive but I have serious doubts about the car!"

Duncan met Phillip's gaze in the mirror. The Greek winked. Ellie had mentioned knowing Amanda... but obviously... not under that name. There also appeared to be some sort of suggestion at work on Amanda that made her keep the girl's existence a secret... a magic that evidently had not been applied to MacLeod.

Phillip tried the cell phone again... he was about to hang up when he finally got an answer. Phillip tore off a torrent of phrases. 

Vaguely Duncan was aware that Phillip's speech was like it had been between Ellie and Methos in London when Duncan had first seen them together... It was a _patois_ of different languages... so mixed up together that by the time he had translated one word, Phillip had already moved on through at least two other languages... some Duncan did not know.

Phillip shut the phone off and leaned solemnly back in the seat. "At least he knows now."

"Will he be joining us?" Amanda wanted to know.

Phillip nodded. "He's on his way. Let's hope he makes it in time. Let's hope we all make it in time."

Accordingly, Duncan pushed on the accelerator and sped up once more. The _Citroen_ seemed to leap forward.

In the backseat, Phillip considered just what to explain to the pair about what he and the others had done to Nestor... and what Nestor had done to them.

***

Nick Wolfe had returned to the church... nervous about Marie-France and Val alone with Kenny. But Val was no easy mark... and Marie-France had size if not cunning working for her. The three were as he had left them... calmly discussing mundane matters.

"Let's go," Nick said.

Kenny sneered at him. "Why should I trust you? You might just want my head!"

"Then stay behind," snapped Nick as he ushered the women from the church and into his waiting SUV. "Suits me fine!"

As if stung by the snub... Kenny... obviously opting not to be in Paris by himself... hurriedly climbed in next to Val in the back. "Just you remember... I'm not a kid."

"Kenny... we are all aware of that," the soft-spoken voice of Marie-France sounded. "Now sit back and enjoy the ride."

Kenny sat back. But he glared at all of them. "I still don't see why I couldn't ride with Amanda!"

"Because there wasn't room for you!" Nick's voice betrayed his tiredness of the boy's attitude.

"They coulda come back for me!"

"No time... I came for you. Now either sit back and be quiet or I let you out!"

Kenny said nothing further.

In the back seat, he and Valeraine stared hatefully at one another. Finally Val spoke up. "Did you kill Rosalie?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because she was in Paris to help me."

Kenny looked over at her, if looks could kill... he'd gladly have taken her head right then. Instead he shook his head. "I didn't even know you were in Paris until I saw you meet MacLeod and the Swordmaster outside the church."

Val crossed her arms and looked down sadly. "Then who killed her?"

"Perhaps it was this Nestor... killing slowly... trying to gather information about all of us in Paris," Marie-France offered.

"Makes sense. Her body was in bad shape... and not all of it was because of decomposition... You only saw her face Val... I saw what he did to her."

Val's shoulders shook with her silent sobs. Bad enough to lose a child... but to lose one in such a manner... Nick had hoped to spare her part of that... but the truth needed to be told. He let her cry. Thankfully, Kenny ceased teasing her and remained quietly thoughtful.

The road to Alsace-Lorraine opened up before him... and Nick reveled in the feel of the open road. He just wished his reasons for this trip were other than they were. And he still didn't trust the boy.


	64. Chapter 60

****

Chapter 60

Northeastern France

Derrick had wandered downstairs after awakening. He'd stopped by Adam's and Ellie's door and listened momentarily to be certain of them. He could hear laughter... Adam's deep voice and Ellie's peals of glee. He'd grinned. They did seem happy. Relieved... he'd entered the kitchen and opened cabinets and drawers trying to find something to eat.

His hand still hurt. He'd probably need new ointment and a new bandage on it again today. He still couldn't fathom why he'd thought he might be like them. He'd been hurt a few times before... and of course he'd been in the hospital after the man in Seacouver had drugged and buried him... But at the moment that he'd stuck his hand into the fire... those things had not seemed real... only his curiosity about his own immortality... whether or not he was like Adam and Ellie... was real.

Obviously... unlike them... he was as Ellie had said... just a little boy. He was buttering some bread and spreading some jam when he heard the crash and Adam's curse.

"Bloody hell!"

Startled he kept very still... at once frightened and apprehensive. A few moments later a disheveled Ellie entered the kitchen wearing some sort of silk robe. "Oh... you're up," she grinned at him broadly, then sobered... her concern apparent, "Derrick? Are you all right?"

Derrick nodded and then with relief raced to place his arms about her. "I was afraid for you!"

"For me!" Ellie laughed and tousled his hair as she hugged him, "Whatever for."

"I heard him... I thought maybe..." Derrick looked up at her fearfully.

"Oh... no... he was on the phone to Phillip. Something's come up... He has to leave us for a while... But he'll be back. I was looking for something I could manage to fix him for breakfast... I don't really cook... you know." She laughed teasingly and glanced at the makings of his breakfast. "Hmmm... bread and jam sandwiches... sounds good to me." She slathered bread with butter and jam... made sandwiches and wrapped them in a towel... Then searched the icebox... triumphantly pulling out a beer. "Ta da!"

Derrick laughed, "Who drinks beer for breakfast?"

"I do when I'm in a hurry!" Adam entered at a rush grabbed the offered food and drink, and kissed Ellie, as he headed for the car. Over his shoulder he called back to Derrick, "Look after things Derrick... I won't be long!" He roared out of the driveway a moment later.

Ellie put her arm about Derrick, "Heigh ho.... heigh ho..."

"It's off to work he goes?" finished Derrick with a question.

"Something like that." She hugged him and stepped over the rough pebbles in her bare feet.

"Is it a bad man... an immortal?"

Ellie looked at him evenly. "Yes Derrick... it's the way we live. Don't envy us the lives we live. Long life is not something to be desired when it comes with such a heavy price."

"But you've lived history!"

"I've lived... I don't know about history..." she grinned. "Race you back inside... One, two, three, go!" And she was off. Derrick raced after her laughing. He had a million questions to ask her... but right now... he wanted to beat her back to that jam sandwich!

***

Methos was furious at himself! How could he have missed the signs... He'd seen the reports for the last twenty or so years... Why had he never put it together? If Nestor was out... then all their hopes and plans for a future where for naught unless they could kill him this time.

"I'm going with you!" Eleanor had said.

"No you're not!" he'd said to her as he began to pull clothes on quickly. "Someone has to stay with Derrick... You cannot expose him to this situation!"

She'd looked at him solemnly... knowing he was right and hating that it was so. "Come back to me!" she'd finally said as she'd pulled on that old robe of his from the closet. "Come back to me..." Then she'd raced down the stairs... unable to face letting him leave.

At least Derrick had been downstairs. His presence there had forced Eleanor into some sort of acceptance of the situation. She'd said nothing further and had even made sandwiches. Methos' stomach churned a bit at the thought of jam and bread... but he'd be grateful enough for them later... and for the beer.

At least he was as close if not closer to the convent than those coming from Paris... with luck... he'd make it in record time.

He'd realized Alisaunne was unusual when he'd first met her... but the thought that she'd been the "born immortal" child that the oldest of oral legends had promised would arrive to usher in the final Gathering... had simply not occurred to him. He'd heard those tales in the early days of his life... the first few hundred years... and then they'd faded with time... as the old ones had all died off.... many by his own hand. Where had Darius found her? Or was that another of the things the priest had just come to know over the years? Had he known what she was? _Damn him for not sharing what he knew_! But even as he thought the words... Methos knew Darius could not have told him these things any more than he could tell Darius of the things that he knew. They'd each had their secrets and their tasks to perform... 

Methos was torn between needing to be there to help with Nestor and his unease at leaving Eleanor and Derrick behind. Part of him feared for them.

"There's a chapel in the house if you need it," he'd told her and she'd nodded in understanding. He prayed to all the powers that were and all the gods that had ever been that they wouldn't need it. But Nestor wouldn't wait... and if that monster should get to the girl... no holy ground anywhere would protect any of them.

Grasping the steering wheel tightly in his hands until his knuckles were white... Methos drove swiftly, mentally kicking himself for not having answered that cell phone last night... But what he and Eleanor had done had needed to be completed. It was now... his mind was clearer than it had been since Seacouver... and deep within him he felt her smile. She was with him... in spirit if not in reality. Her strength and her gifts were with him, as his were with her... Methos prayed that they would be enough.


	65. Chapter 61

****

Chapter 61

The English Channel

Cassandra leaned languidly against the railing of the ferry and carefully sorted through the papers in the folder. One by one she read the pages and committed the locations to memory. Then one by one she tore each page into strips and let the sea breeze carry the strips far into the distance. With each page she destroyed... she felt as if she were already destroying the locations described on them. Methos owned houses in every country... houses on every continent... on every major island all over the world. Some were grand houses like that in London... most were small and unimportant... They were houses that would allow him to fly beneath the radar when he lived there. There was no limit to the type of house. There were isolated country houses... apartments in busy cities... estates and working farms. Cassandra knew them all now. Methos had kept meticulous records.

About her a flock of gulls cried as they followed the ferry. Not far away a young couple with two small children tossed food to the hungry birds that swooped eagerly at the morsels. Cassandra knew just how they felt... those gulls.

She was feeding her soul on these pages and was preparing to swoop at all that Methos owned. She would destroy it all. Every house... every book... every hidden place he had. One by one she would swoop down on them and consume them until he had nowhere left to hide. She would take from him all he owned as he had taken all from her.

She ripped another page of tax records to strips... so many hidden places... so many hidden treasures. She would destroy them all as she had the home in London. It had been with great satisfaction that she had stood a block away and watched the flames reach high into the sky. Even the firefighters had been unable to stem the flow of the flames as they consumed the old house like so much dried paper. She supposed the Watchers had called it in. But it had made no difference. The manor house of Lord Edward Gray... Methos... was nothing but charred embers and a blackened hulk when the flames had at last been extinguished.

Later as those embers cooled... and the authorities made an initial sort through the ruins... she'd watched them looking for anything that might have been a cause for the blaze. She'd laughed aloud at that. "_The cause_," she'd thought with amusement, "_The cause is me... and I am no longer there_." She'd watched the Watchers and their evident consternation. They suspected a quickening... that was evident... but they could say nothing to the officials. The Watchers expected a body... and when it was found... would they assume it was his body? No... but they might assume he'd been there... that he was hunting once more... that he'd fore-sworn this meek act he'd put on for them. How could anyone fail to see that he was no meek, wise old man? How could anyone fail to see he was as devious and as murderous as ever? But soon they would... soon they'd know... He would at last tear away his false mask and show his true face again... He was Death... and he would be destroyed. She would destroy him.

Cassandra tore the final page into strips and tossed the lot of them out onto the water with a sense of glee. Before leaving London this morning... she'd slept... her first real sleep in ages... and in her dreams she had at long last sensed the future... Just as she had in the vault, she'd had a glimpse of Methos on his knees before her... and she had a sword raised to take his head... The dream ended at that point... but it was a true vision... not a false one. She knew the difference.

Lilith had shown her the way to tell the difference between the things she wanted to see... and the things which were... the things which would happen if certain conditions were met. Well... Cassandra would meet those conditions. Whatever it took... she would meet those conditions. No matter who she had to kill... no matter who was hurt in the process... she would do what was needed to arrive at that juncture of time. She would stand over him with the power of life and death in her hands!

It was not that she wanted his quickening inside her as he had once been inside her... but she did want him dead! Perhaps that is why the vision ended with the knowledge that she would have that power of life and death over him... Cassandra smiled and tossed the empty folder out onto the ocean... watching it float for a moment on the wind before sinking onto the choppy waters.

"You shouldn't throw trash into the waters, Miss."

Cassandra turned toward the voice and smiled coldly. "Any why not?"

"Things thrown in is bad for the birds and the fish."

"It's only paper... paper will dissolve in the water."

"Still, Miss, it's bad to do. Sets a bad precedent for the young." The old man leaned on the rail, flicking the ashes of his cigarette into the water.

"What about that cigarette? When you are finished with it... where will you toss it?" She could not help but tease the old fool... she felt more powerful and more at peace and in control than she had felt for years. At last she had a very real chance at ending her nightmares.

The old man looked at her oddly from beneath his peaked cap and grinned slyly. He dropped the butt onto the deck of the ferry and stepped on it solidly. "Not in the ocean." He reached down and picked it up placing it within his pocket. He touched a hand to the brim of his cap in a salute and walked on. Cassandra saw the edge of a Watcher tattoo peaking out from his cuff as he saluted. She made certain she did not stare nor seem to recognize it.

After he'd left her, Cassandra faced the water rubbing her arms in the breeze. They had found her. The Watchers had found her. Perhaps one of the ones at the fire last night had noticed her there in the shadows. Had the old man intended her to know? She didn't think so. Still... she couldn't let him follow her... She wanted no word of her activities to reach Methos until she was ready for him to know it was she who was destroying his life.

The Watchers were friends with MacLeod... and MacLeod was, as yet, a friend to Methos. Cassandra feared word would reach her quarry... Then he would search for her. No... she needed him to be confused... to not understand how and why his hiding places were destroyed. She wanted him off balance and uncertain. Cassandra wanted Methos to feel the loss of his possessions and the people he loved one by one... until he had nothing and no one left. He would drop the mask then... he would show the world that he was still the evil one... then... even MacLeod would want his head.

Cassandra took a deep breath... letting it out slowly. This was one of those junctures that she must deal with. If Methos was to be destroyed... Cassandra had to act now. With a purposeful stride she followed the old man along the deck without seeming to. When he stopped to light another cigarette cupping his hands around the flame of the match she hesitated. When he leaned once more on the rail of the ferry to watch the gulls and the ocean pass by, and to flick his ashes... Cassandra knew her one moment had arrived. She seized it and appeared to trip... falling against him so that he lost his balance as well. She clutched at his jacket. Both of them went tumbling into the ocean where she dragged him down with her into the depths... until the green darkness took her and she lost her grip on him.

In her last moment of consciousness before she let death take her one more time... she seemed to hear Lilith's voice. "_Foolish child... you have lost your way. As I feared, for too long have you traveled the paths of prophecy. Not all that you see must come to be... A seer must not seek the future for herself... but only for others. Your desire bends your vision._" Cassandra let the words pass over her as surely as did the waters of the Channel... They were nothing... they were only words... and, as she had learned long ago, words had no power... no power at all.

***

Sometime later, Cassandra struggled awake as she floated on the surface of the water. She found a piece of wood drifting nearby and grasped it. With enough time, not even the ocean depths could hold an immortal struggling once more to live, to recover, and awaken. From here she could barely make out the shoreline of Northern France.

She began to kick... toward land... toward her goal... toward the next step in her plan to destroy Methos.


	66. Chapter 62

****

Chapter 62

Ste. Genevieve

After the morning services and breakfast, Alisaunne had once more found herself at loose ends. She had no set task or routine here. She was a visitor with nothing to occupy her time. At _Sacre Coeur_ she would have had classes or kitchen duties or even her friends to visit with. Here... when the children were in class... she had no one. Sister Luke had suggested that she might enjoy some gardening. Not wishing to be disagreeable, the girl had agreed.

At least out here in the sun and fresh air she could listen to Ursa and watch for when the children got out of class. Once again she had asked about joining the class, but even Ian had suggested she find other activities.

As before, Alisaunne had the strange impression that those children were more in charge around this place than the nuns were. Indeed, other than Sister Luke, the other nuns appeared to just be at everyone's beck and call. They seemed to do the mundane activities about the convent... keeping everything in order... but did not seem to have any control over the children themselves.

Everything here was definitely puzzling.

Alisaunne had come across Denara yesterday, reading... not a child's picture book... but some old text in Greek... she was certain it was Greek.

"Isn't that a little hard for you?" she'd asked the little girl.

Denara had looked up from her reading and clutched her stuffed rabbit tightly. "I was born Greek. I learned to read it before I came here," she had lisped in her little girl's lisp. Denara had said nothing unusual... perhaps she was some sort of genius... but Alisaunne was beginning to think that there was far more going on here than she thought.

No contact with the outside world... that is no radio, no television, no telephone, she supposed she could understand... but the people here did not even seem to belong in the modern world. Whenever Alisaunne had mentioned current events or pop culture... her comments had been met, for the most part, by stares that held no comprehension of her words.

Had no one here been off the grounds in years?

She weeded the flower gardens and raked the dead leaves from the paths, concentrating on the physical labor to occupy her. Once finished, she carefully returned the implements and wandered back into the main house.

Always one to enjoy reading, she'd gone into the small library and began to examine the tomes on the shelves. Most were very old... many in Latin or Greek... a few in other languages she could only guess at. Evidently modern fiction... especially romance novels were not in demand here. That did not surprise her... but the lack of many modern texts did.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?"

Alisaunne turned to see one of the nuns regarding her inquisitively.

"Just something to read," she offered lightly and returned to scanning the shelves.

"I fear there is little here that you would find entertaining."

"I noticed that. Why is that?" Alisaunne turned to watch the nun replace a book on the shelf and select another.

The nun smiled. "We have all we need here. We have little need for the outside world."

"But don't you wonder what it's like out there?"

"You are here because you saw someone killed, yes?"

Alisaunne nodded soberly. She had not thought of _Monseiur_ Maillot once today.

"Is that not enough reason to ignore the outside world. Here... we have peace and nature... and all the time we need to contemplate them both."

"I suppose... but... I miss my friends... my world. I could never just remain here."

The woman nodded sadly. "Not everyone can." She'd hugged the volume to her chest and left the library.

Curious, Alisaunne pulled the book the nun had replaced from the shelf. As she thumbed through it, she realized it was some sort of history, but in a language she was not quiet certain of. She put it back and continued to scan through the titles. Seeing one that looked oddly familiar, she pulled it out and thumbed through it. A bound manuscript... not a printed book. The handwriting and sketches looked vaguely familiar. She lightly ran her fingers over the pages wondering what it was about the drawings that fascinated her. She had the feeling she'd seen this once before... but she couldn't recall where.

The sound of the chapel bell indicating that classes had been dismissed made her look up. She shoved the volume back onto the shelf and raced for the garden.

She met Ian and the others as they were exiting their classroom. One of the children was carefully placing a sword within his coat. Alisaunne paused staring at the boy. He offered her a sheepish smile and a shrug. "Fencing practice," he mumbled.

"Fencing? I can fence! My teacher said I was quite good!" Alisaunne's excitement at discovering a common interest bubbled over. "Do you think I could practice with you?" She surprised herself with those words. Just yesterday... the very thought of a sword had reminded her of what she'd seen. Now... a sword was one way she could keep _Monsieur_ Maillot's memory alive. She could be the best fencer possible... dedicating all her matches to his memory.

The boy looked guiltily at Ian who nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe we could fence a bit later today if you wish."

"You fence too, Ian?" Alisaunne regarded the young man with her best smile. She did like him... with his freckles and that shock of white hair, and that lilting accent he had. It always surprised her when he seemed to look at her with so much sadness, and she wondered why that was. After all, surely neither of them had illusions that this was anything more than a flirtation... or was it. When she was with Ian... the world stopped... and she wished that the two of them could go on forever... caught in that single moment of time.

"That and a bit of hand-to-hand," he said slinging an arm about her shoulders and guiding her into the garden. "I could show you later if you wish."

"I wish," Alisaunne said. But she did not specify exactly what it was she was wishing for.

From the refectory doorway, Sister Luke watched the exchange between the two young people and worried. This entire relationship was fraught with peril. She'd likely have to talk to Ian again. He had said he understood... but when he looked at the girl... it was if all the wisdom of his two hundred or so years was lost and he was in fact what he appeared to be... a young man experiencing his first real crush.

"For your sake, I hope your friend returns for you soon," Luke whispered to herself. "He should never have brought you here." She straightened as much as her ninety-six mortal years would let her... and slowly walked back into the building.


	67. Chapter 63

****

Chapter 63

Seacouver

The ringing phone awakened a very groggy Joe Dawson. He struggled in the bed to reach the light and winced at the pain in his chest as he did so. He really was feeling much better... but there were still moments when his injuries brought him up short. Pain that the level of medication he was now on could only dull slightly... not end. Turning the light on... he then grasped the ringing phone.

"Yeah... Dawson!" he barked into it.

"Joe... it's Amy."

Immediately Joe regretted his initial tone and softened it. "You all right?"

"I'm sorry... I guess it's still night there."

Joe glanced around at the darkened room and grinned, "Oh not too bad... I'm up. So... where are you?"

"I'm back in London and everything's in an uproar here."

"How so?" Joe shifted his position so he could talk to his daughter more easily.

"Methos' home... the one in north London... it burned to the ground last night."

Joe said nothing... his mind flashing through a thousand Chronicle entries in his head... who might have known about Methos... about that place?

"There was a body found in the ashes... headless."

"A quickening. Any I. D. on the body?" he asked almost fearfully.

"It's not Methos... too short. But the body was burned so badly we may never know for certain. The fire apparently started in a basement vault. Everything's gone Joe... Whatever he had stored here... Whatever of our records he might have had... It's all gone." Joe could tell Amy was upset.

"Did anyone see the old man there?"

There was a pause on the other end. Then Amy said slowly, "No... but the Watchers who called the fire in said they thought they saw Cassandra hanging around later."

"Cassandra? Isn't she in New York?"

"She managed to lose her new Watcher when she closed her New York office suddenly. No one had picked up on her until last night. Joe... would she have started this fire?"

Joe thought of the tall psychic immortal he'd met briefly when she'd told MacLeod, and him about the Methos she had once known... the murdering horseman of the Bronze Age... the immortal who'd ridden with Kronos. There had been a ferocity and a hatred about her that had worried him. Later, when that whole episode was over, he'd asked MacLeod about Cassandra. Mac had shrugged and said he'd convinced her to let Methos alone. What if she hadn't? What if this were the first of several strikes against the old immortal? Did she have it in her? Joe let out a held breath and rubbed his short graying hair. "Maybe... I don't know... check with Cassandra's previous Watcher... maybe she knows something."

"Will do... and Joe... get well soon... We miss you... I miss you."

Joe listened to the click of Amy's phone and slowly hung up his own. He considered turning the light off and then changed his mind. When Anne had left... she'd placed his laptop conveniently out of reach. Joe figured his doctor wanted to be certain he didn't try to do any additional research overnight.

"You will get a good night's sleep Joe! Don't make me pull rank on you," Anne had said with a smile.

Well... he'd tried. He'd slept most of the night... and rather soundly. Glancing at the clock and seeing the time... Joe knew the sun would be up shortly. He'd have to wait for either the night nurse or Mrs. Hutchinson to check on him and hand him his computer. But he still had his mind... and his memories. He leaned back against the headboard and visualized the Chronicle entries... One by one he went through Cassandra's students. Surely if she had set this fire... she'd had help getting in. How had she found the house? The Watchers on the Methos file were among the most reliable in the Watcher organiztion. Surely none of them had talked. They all knew that keeping Methos' secret from all other immortals was important. Surely none of them had talked when they shouldn't have? Or mentioned his name in an overheard conversation?

Had someone seen Methos in London and let Cassandra know? If so who?

By the time Mrs. Hutchinson had come on duty and had entered with his breakfast... Joe had a possible list of candidates in his head as identities for the body. At least it was a place to start.

But Mrs. Hutchinson was not handing over his laptop until he ate everything. So Joe ate. During breakfast his phone rang once more.

"Joe Dawson?"

"Yeah... who's this?"

"I'm Melanie Pryor... Cassandra's last Watcher."

"What can I do for you?"

"Amy Brennan-Thomas called me and mentioned that Cassandra had been seen in London and wondered if I knew of an immortal she might have fought."

"Yeah... it has to do with another file." Joe did not know how much this Watcher knew about Methos and he wasn't about to say anything.

"So I gather... She said if I thought of anything to call you. This may be nothing... but... a week or so before she closed up shop here... she met with an immortal named Nathan Barlow."

"Friends or enemies?"

"Friends I gather. I never actually saw them together... but I do know they met briefly. Then he went back to London."

"London," Joe nodded to himself... glaring at Mrs. Hutchinson standing over him. He waved her and his clean breakfast tray away and motioned for his laptop. She seemed reluctant to let him have it.

"Listen... Melanie... You've been most helpful... If you think of anything else... anything at all... call me back." He glared at his nurse. As he hung up the phone he snapped, "My laptop... now!"

"Mr. Dawson... you..."

"Listen lady... My research might mean life or death for someone... now hand me my damned computer!"

Mariah Hutchinson set the tray down and handed him the computer. "I still say Dr. Lindsey was making a mistake allowing you access to this so soon."

"Yeah... yeah..." he waved at her and booted his system up to pull the latest files on Cassandra... and on Nathan Barlow.

Less than an hour later he called Amy with the results. "It's likely Nathan Barlow, Amy... Check with his Watcher... I got a feeling he's our man. He's been doing research for Cassandra for years. It may have finally paid off... but I have a feeling he wasn't paid quite the way he thought he might be."

After ringing off, Joe leaned back and took several deep breaths. As if this Nestor business wasn't enough... now Methos likely had Cassandra after him once more. Joe sobered and wondered how long it would be before Cassandra's vendetta against Methos brought her into contact with Ellie... Joe shivered at the thought of what might happen if those two met. One of them determined to destroy Methos... the other one... in love with him. Joe had never seen Ellie fight... he had no clear idea how good she might be... Mac had said she was good... if a bit unorthodox. The Highlander had seen Ellie spar with Methos in London... and she'd managed to beat the Ancient... but Joe was worried. That still didn't give him a clear idea... after all... Ellie was so small she might be mistaken for a child at a distance... and likely had been. And if she had been the one who'd killed Carmen Mendoza... then likely Methos was with her. And if Methos _was_ with her... would that bring Cassandra?

"Damn!" Joe grumbled. He hated not being there for his friends. He hated being on the far side of the world from where they were. Yet there was nothing he could do about it. He had to help his friends... it was all he could do. Thoughtfully he began collating information from the Chronicle database once more. When one of them called... if one of them called... he'd have everything ready to pass on to them.


	68. Chapter 64

****

Chapter 64

Eastern France

Duncan swerved around a slow-moving hay wagon and gunned the _Citroen_ one more time so that it almost seemed to leap ahead on the road and soar over the small rises and dips in the pavement. Already he felt that he wasn't moving fast enough. That somehow... he would be too late... that he would fail in his task. _Protect the clan!_ He could hear his father's teachings thundering in his ears above the pounding of his own heart. _Protect the clan!_

Amanda had given up begging him to slow down as it only seemed to inspire him to move faster. In the rear of the vehicle... Phillip likewise remained silent.

"So how did you finally stop him?" Duncan managed through gritted teeth. Phillip met his gaze in the rearview mirror but then looked away. "Phillip... out with it... What did you do?"

Phillip cleared his throat. "You likely have no concept of the time and the place... The world was not the world you have known in your paltry few hundred years. You cannot imagine..."

"I can imagine a lot. I have had some very interesting conversations with Methos."

"What could he know?" Amanda said lightly and then seeing the dark look in MacLeod's eyes... seemed to regret her words.

"Then you know what he was?" Phillip asked.

Duncan nodded.

"Nestor was worse."

"Enlighten me."

Phillip took a deep breath and let it slowly out. "In some parts of the world... scratch the surface of the legends of demons and you will find him. Under a thousand names he wandered the world. He taught men to take heads, to drink blood, to eat their enemies. He taught perversion and led entire tribes into a darkness of depravity from which they never recovered.

"He was never so much into taking our heads... though he did so... as in teaching mortals to take each other's heads... and ours. He would lead them down the paths of darkness and then sit back and laugh at what he'd done. He'd laugh while all around him... men and women murdered and tortured and maimed those they loved and those they hated.

"He was the source of the custom of parading heads on pikes... of tearing victims apart by means of wild horses... of pounding spikes into someone's flesh or eyes. He was rape... not just of the body... but rape of the mind and of the soul. He may well have been the inspiration for Lucifer."

"Lucifer was a fallen angel... the angel of the morning... the angel of light." Duncan's voice betrayed his confusion.

"Yes... one of us... capable of light... beautiful to behold... mesmerizing... tantalizing... charismatic when he wished to be. When he took the head of one of us... his followers worshipped the light that broke forth. He'd tell them that once they took enough... they too would be gods... they too would achieve the light."

"And you?"

"Ahh... MacLeod... He could twist a man's soul so that even if it were daylight and Nestor said it was night... it became night. I was very young... but I still should have known better. But like others of our kind... I believed him for a time... I followed where he led. When I became sickened at what we were doing... I left. But some part of him seemed to touch everything I did or tried to do for centuries. No matter how I tried to atone for my sins... no matter what good deed I ever did... Nestor or his minions followed and destroyed it all."

Duncan saw a line of traffic ahead and was forced to slow down. Impatiently he tried to snake in and out of the traffic and pull ahead of the slower moving vehicles. But there was no way out. Defeated for the moment, he asked again, "How did you finally stop him?"

This time... when Phillip's eyes glazed over... he was at last able to speak. "He may well have been like you once Duncan... a champion tempted and degraded and brought low by powers too strong for him to overcome. The more he fought them... the stronger they became."

"Ahriman."

Phillip nodded briefly. "Perhaps... I only know that for over a thousand years... barbarity ruled the known world... and there was little hope for mankind. At one point, he was in Rome and sat at Nero's right hand. Nero lit the fires... but it was Nestor who fanned the flames... as he had done at Troy. Even then he was ancient... the legends say. The wisest and best of all the captains of Greece. By the end... he was the pillager of Troy and the instigator of rape. Men did not just die by his command... they suffered. They watched as their wives were raped and their children's heads were dashed against stones. Many begged for death... but were maimed and sold into torment.

"Somewhere along the line... he began to torture immortals. He wanted to see how much he could do before they went mad... or killed themselves... or simply never came back. How much could he hack off... before they simply expired? Finally, at Pompeii, some of his immortal followers attempted to stop him."

"Let me guess... holy ground and Mt. Vesuvius erupted?" Duncan smirked.

"In a way. No holy ground involved... but the volcano did explode and Nestor and his people were scattered. Some of us thought him dead. The world began to recover. Oh... there were still atrocities in many cultures... but right-minded men began pulling the world out of darkness. Then... about a century later... Nestor resurfaced. No longer beautiful to the eye... no longer the honey-tongued beguiler... he was wrath incarnate.

"Some of us banded together to stop him from achieving influence once more. We were an unlikely group. What brought us together was never clear. Some of us did not much like some of the others... You must understand... immortals are solitary creatures. We don't do well in groups. What we were attempting was against all the rules... but Nestor had to be stopped. And only immortals could stop him."

"Why didn't someone just challenge him and take his head?" Amanda asked.

"I think I know," murmured Duncan. "That much evil... you feared a dark quickening."

Phillip nodded. "They are rare... but all the signs were there... and still are. There is a sickness about him that perverts even the best of us. We who went after him... were not the best... not the strongest... not even the wisest. But we were the ones who knew he had to be stopped... no matter what."

"And Rebecca was with you," whispered Amanda.

"The only female... yes. Methos, Darius, me, the immortal whom your kinsman Connor would one day know as Ramirez, the Trojan you once knew as Graham Ashe, even Marcus Constantine, and others. We set aside who and what we were... our petty quarrels... our nationalities... We became brothers... a family as it were... for a time... sworn to stop Nestor... or die trying. Some of us did die... some of us should have... and some of us might have been better off if we had." Phillip's voice trailed away as if his thoughts of those who had died in that long-ago campaign meant something more to him than what he was saying. He shuddered and continued.

"Dreams and portents drew us together. Visions born in the magic of the day. We came together for a single purpose and pursued Nestor to holy ground. We surrounded him. We could not pursue him further. On holy ground we could do no violence. The earth itself trembled and wrenched with our intent. Thus we laid siege to his encampment. He could not escape... but the longer we were there... the more insane he became. Trapped within his own lines... he turned his wrath on those he could reach.

"It was Nestor who supplied the means by which we finally defeated him. In his madness... he began killing his hostages and ordering the slaughter of the families of his followers. As the ground ran red with blood... our way opened. Nestor's sanctuary was no longer holy... the gods had forsaken it. Because he had so desecrated it with his slaughters... it ceased to be holy. We swarmed into his camp, killing those who tried to stand in our way. In the end we who survived stood about him. He challenged us all. Even if he died, he said... he would still win... he would become us!

"We dared not kill him... we feared to take his evil in to ourselves, we feared we would not survive." Phillip's voice faltered a moment... as if recalling something he was not yet ready to share. Then he continued, "Darius suggested our final solution. We bound Nestor in chains and buried him deep in a cleft in the earth... Then we rained down an avalanche upon him. We left him screaming his curses upon all of us. We left him alone... with no one to listen to him... no one who would feed or care for him. We left him alone to die in darkness again and again and again... We left him for what we hoped would be all time... but knowing that someday... someone would have to chance it... Someone would have to take his head... We knew that in the end... one of us would have to kill him."

"Evidently he got loose!" Duncan had finally passed the last of the slower moving vehicles. Once more he floored the accelerator attempting to make up for lost time. The engine of the _Citroen_ roared and the landscape passed by at a blinding speed.

Within the car, Phillip nodded sadly. "Death was his way out... but whoever killed him... would become him. At the time, no of us was willing to chance that. In the end... we knew we would have fallen one upon another as we sought to end the dark quickening. We would all have fallen... and the world would have indeed been lost. Nestor would have triumphed... he would still exist while we were only memory... and he would have our skills."

"And afterwards?" Amanda asked. "What happened afterwards?"

"Some went back to their lives with no memory of what we'd done. In later years... if we met them... they vaguely remembered us... but their minds were clouded. Only a few of us remembered it all."

"Did Rebecca?"

"Yes... Amanda... and that may well be the reason she tried so hard in later centuries to save immortals from themselves... from their own dark impulses. She once told me that only an immortal of light could ever overcome the darkness in Nestor. Until we had such a champion... we had to endure."

"And you think you have that champion now?" smirked Duncan.

"I don't know MacLeod. Once I thought Darius might have been the one... but after he came to Paris... after he killed the Ancient... all thoughts of ever taking another head... another quickening left him. He would not consider it. He and Methos quarreled about it several times over the centuries. In the end... Methos tried to lure him out with..." Phillip smiled and winked at Duncan's reflection in the mirror, "but it never worked... Darius remained where he was... and unknown to us... Nestor evidently broke free."

Phillip's talk of Darius had made Duncan think of the boy Derrick... and of the research Ellie had gathered for Darius over the centuries. Was Derrick this warrior of light that would be needed someday? Did the research contain the answers of how they were to destroy Nestor? If so, why did Darius make it all so difficult? Why hide the answers in puzzle after puzzle? Or did any of this have anything to do with Nestor at all?

His mind in a whirl... Duncan swung about sharply into the other lane to pass a car and felt something give... The wheel spun helplessly in his hands and the world flashing by suddenly came sharply into focus as the _Citroen_ plunged into an embankment, flipped twice and exploded on impact... Black smoke and flames shot into the sky... and all was darkness.


	69. Chapter 65

****

Chapter 65

Northeastern France

Cassandra had made it to shore by early afternoon. She'd dragged herself up on a beach and lay panting in the sand... a wet and bedraggled piece of flotsam cast out of the ocean's depths.

Remorse for the death of the old Watcher touched her briefly. She dug within herself and cast it off. She had done what was needed. She had no time for guilt or regrets. By the time they were aware of what had happened to him... she'd be long gone, and her involvement in his death might never be known.

Struggling to her feet... she thrust her hands deeply into the pockets of her coat... relieved that the crystal was still there. Although it had not, as yet, shown her anything... after what she had gone through to get it... she did not wish to lose it... especially at the bottom of the English Channel.

Her sword, however, was another matter. Apparently it had slipped from its hiding place within her coat and had fallen victim to gravity and to water. She'd had that one a long time... and she hated to lose it... but she could always get another. The crystal was the only one of its kind... and could not be replaced. One day soon it would speak to her again as it had once spoken to her. She would see the paths of the future arrayed about her as Lilith had once seen... she was Lilith's inheritor... like the Ancient... Cassandra had the gift of prophecy... and would know how to maneuver people so that the future would play out as it should. Lilith's warning about madness went unheeded.

Cassandra centered her thoughts and focused on the path of her choice. Brushing her damp and sand-laden locks from her face, she faced inland and headed for signs of civilization. She needed to get cleaned up and she needed to rent another car... or steal one. She had a house to burn... and a certain old immortal to bedevil.

***

If he were honest with himself, Derrick was glad Adam was gone for a while, although he did hope he'd soon be back. He did want to get back to that enticing computer game... the one that seemed to whisper to him of other times and other places. Ellie, while thoughtful and staring off into the distance with a small smile, seemed much more the Ellie the boy had known over the last few years... before they'd ever run into that bad man... that immortal in Seacouver... the one Duncan had killed when they'd first met.

When Adam wasn't around... Ellie seemed like a kid again... the big sister for whom the boy was the center of her world. Derrick liked that. Even knowing that she was older than she looked and that Ellie and Adam had likely known each other for hundreds of years without aging, did not truly phase him. She was his Ellie... and she had promised him she would never leave him... never again.

Eager to be outside... to have a chance at running and exploring Adam's estate... the two had spent most of the day doing so. They'd picnicked in a small glade on the sandwiches they'd made and laughed and danced and talked.

"What's it like to live for hundreds of years?" he finally asked her.

Ellie's expression was one of puzzlement. Then she'd shrugged, "Like living is for anyone else except we outlive many people we care about. We watch them being born... growing up... and then we watch them die... and we remain."

"And one day you will watch me grow old and die?" the boy had pushed.

Tears welled up in Ellie's eyes at that point and she'd sniffed and shook her head. "It's what makes loving mortals so hard, Derrick. If I truly give my heart to one... I have to be willing to face that... and I have always found it difficult. Usually... I leave before too much time passes."

"But you won't leave me... you promised!" The boy's voice took on an insistent tone.

"Ahh... little one... One day you will leave me." In that moment, Derrick thought he saw for the first time a glimpse of the immortal Ellie who had lived so very long.

"Never!" he cried and wrapped his arms about her and clung to her. He felt her return the embrace and kiss the top of his head. Then the moment passed. She tickled him until he collapsed in laughter on the ground. 

With a laugh... she rose to race back to the house, calling over her shoulder, "First one back gets to cook dinner!"

Derrick had scrambled to his feet and run after her. After all... her attempts at cooking were well-known to him. Even he could do better. She was once more simply Ellie.

Not far from the house... she stopped suddenly. As he passed by her... she reached out and pulled him back sharply... clutching his shoulders. Derrick glanced at her face and knew that someone was here. It was the way these immortals had... They could sense one another somehow.

"Maybe it's Adam!" he cried and pulled loose... shrugging off her hand and heading for the house.

"Wait... Derrick... it's not..." but the rest of her words were lost to him as he exited the trees. He stopped short on the gravel drive seeing the unfamiliar car. Then the long-coated figure turned to stare at him. Derrick's face broke into a smile.

"Cassandra!" he cried and ran toward her... throwing his arms about the woman who'd helped him face the demons of his past... the woman who'd helped him find the way to put them all to sleep.

"Derrick?" Cassandra held him at arms' length and smiled thinly. "How did you get here? Why are you here?" She looked up at Ellie's approach and Derrick thought he saw the barest flicker of something dark and twisted move across Cassandra's face.

"Ellie," he cried to his sister, "Look who's here!" He glanced back at Ellie who was standing very still and small ten feet away. Her eyes were focused on Cassandra's. Derrick saw the fingers of Ellie's left hand move in their silent signs to warn him away from Cassandra... Derrick shook his head. "_We have a visitor Eleanor... We must make her welcome._" Ellie's eyes widened a bit as Derrick's tone changed slightly, but she nodded ever so perceptively.

"Cassandra," she said evenly as she slowly approached, "What brings you here? How did you find us?"

Cassandra smiled, but it seemed hollow. "Oh... a mutual friend."

"Duncan?" Derrick asked reaching to hold both women's hands as they headed to the house, once more sounding only like an eager little boy. "Do you know Duncan, too? Are you like Ellie and Duncan?"

"Duncan... yes... I know Duncan." Cassandra met the boy's gaze. "As for being like them? What do you mean?"

Derrick looked back at Eleanor and read the movements of her flicking fingers... "_Say nothing about Adam!_" He nodded. "Oh... you know... old friends."

Cassandra laughed, "Friends... old friends... Yes... you could say that."

"Good!" said Derrick dropping both women's hands as he opened the front door and stood aside for them to enter. He knew there was more going on here than he realized... that there was something else... but other than that one dark look that had crossed Cassandra's face a moment ago... Derrick had not sensed the evil in her or that awareness he'd had of the bad men who had threatened his friends as well as Derrick himself not so long ago. Cassandra did not really like Ellie... and Ellie apparently felt much the same way... but Cassandra was _his_ friend... she would never hurt him. Derrick would stake his life on that. "We were gonna make some dinner... Are you hungry Cassandra? Will you stay for dinner?"

"Hungry... oh little one... you have no idea how hungry I am," Cassandra had said with a laugh. There was an undertone to her words that worried him... but for here and for now... everything would be all right. He just knew that it would be.

Eleanor watched Cassandra enter the house and motioned Derrick to go ahead. She knew the psychic was lying about Duncan having told her anything. Duncan would have had no idea where Ellie and Derrick were. Methos would not have told him. Eleanor carefully kept her emotions under control. Methos had to focus on helping the Highlander deal with Nestor. He needed no distractions... besides... Eleanor could handle Cassandra if it came to it... but she didn't think it would... Cassandra seemed as enchanted with Derrick as Eleanor herself was. Nevertheless, Eleanor would be wary of the psychic while she was here. Very wary! While she did not have her short sword on her at the moment... she _was_ armed. On her back, beneath the overlarge jacket... her harness held the two long knives. And deep within one pocket... she was already fingering another knife with her right hand.


	70. Chapter 66

****

Chapter 66

Ste. Genevieve

Methos had driven straight through to the convent. As he pulled onto the grounds, he was perplexed. He could see both the mortal nuns and the immortal children milling about as if nothing were going on. His message from Phillip had said they were on their way... they should already have arrived... yet Methos did not sense them anywhere.

Even as he left the car he was dialing first Phillip's and then MacLeod's cell phones. No answer! Swiftly he entered the convent grounds, noticing the young Alisaunne de Pres fencing with Ian Daffyd. _Of all the inane things for her to be doing_! he thought, rolling his eyes. Methos strode over to the children. He grasped the young woman's arm and said, "We have to leave... now!"

Alisaunne pulled her arm free. "Where's Duncan?" she asked sharply.

"I don't know... He should have already arrived to get you out of here." Methos had hoped MacLeod would have arrived and taken the girl. He had planned on facing Nestor with Phillip's help... waylaying the maniac or drawing him away from here... containing him once more if it were at all possible. Now... it might be up to him to get the girl out of here. And he could not leave the inhabitants of the convent to Nestor's ministrations.

"Why?" Terror was once more rising in the girl. Methos could hear it in her voice as it cracked and wavered.

"Doc... You're frightening her," Ian broke in protectively.

Methos took a deep breath, "Ian... gather the others." The young man nodded, instinctively understanding that something was up, and took off at a run. Methos put both his hands lightly on Alisaunne's arms as he gazed calmly at her until her eyes met his. Then he said evenly... with no sign of the urgency he felt. "The man who killed Maillot is on his way here. He's coming for you. He fears you can identify him to the police." There was no way to explain to her just why Nestor was coming, so he told her what made the most logical sense.

Alisaunne nodded. "Will he hurt the others?" She glanced around at the gathering group. What she saw reflected in this man's eyes, told her the answer. A small gasp escaped her throat. "We have to help them!"

Methos nodded. She understood. He turned and glanced at Sister Luke. "Where's Marie-France? Where's Valeraine?" Again... Methos was perplexed that things were not as he had expected. Those who should have been here... those he most needed to rely on for help at the moment... were not here.

"They have not yet returned," the elderly woman said. "I have heard nothing."

Methos' shoulders sagged. Marie-France must have gone after Valeraine herself... and knowing the child immortal... he knew she'd somehow convinced her friend to remain in Paris. Methos gazed westward with a worried look. For a moment he felt Eleanor with him... her strength and support buoyed him. "Where's Ursa?" he asked at last, not knowing what else to do. When Luke pointed back toward the garden, Methos snapped at them to get ready to roll... They all had to leave and they had to leave now! He raced into the garden.

Ursa stood as the old one approached. He knew this one. Once he had fought at his side, so very long ago.

"Ursa," the old one said. "Go with the others... protect them. Nestor comes."

Ursa nodded. He remembered Nestor with a shudder. "Ursa protect small ones."

Methos clasped the big immortal's arm. "That's right Ursa. Protect the small ones, the mortals, and Sister Luke. Take them into the caves and into the wild. They are not safe here."

"Nestor comes." A shadow of the memory of what Nestor had once inflicted on him welled up for a moment... before being lost in what remained of his mind.

Methos nodded. "And holy ground will not stop him."

Ursa turned from the old one and gathered his great blade once more into his arms. For this the old ones had sent him to this place. Matthias and Darius had warned him that evil would come... That he, Ursa, must stand between the darkness and the light. He must endure.

The gentle soul within the giant... the soul that held no hate... might be the only soul that could contain Nestor's evil if it came to it. But Methos feared that even Ursa's gentleness and age would not protect him from a dark quickening. With his great size... Ursa could become an even greater threat than Nestor himself was. But at the moment... Ursa was his only hope to protect the convent's inhabitants.

Methos ordered the group to just leave and leave now. "Don't tell me exactly where you're going... just go... Stay safe," he told them as they headed off into the distance.

He grasped Alisaunne's arm and pulled her toward his own vehicle. He needed to get her away from here and from the others. If Nestor sensed her at all... that is the trail he would likely follow... but Methos did not wish to lead him back to Eleanor and Derrick. He needed to get the girl out of here now so he could keep her away from Nestor. That, and he was beginning to feel an unease from Eleanor... not much... but he knew he needed to get back to them. 

Alisaunne once more pulled free of him. "Why can't I wait for Duncan? I don't really know you." Her eyes found the boy who had hesitated to follow the others until she was gone. She pleaded for him to help her, "Ian?"

"He's the doctor, Alisaunne... he's an old friend, you'll be safe with him." The boy smiled, trying to reassure her.

"No... I won't go without you."

And there it was. Methos paused to meet Ian's gaze. He motioned with his head for Ian to join them... better that than waste additional time arguing. Besides, Ursa was more than a match for Nestor physically if it came to it. Ian would have no chance at all. But Ian might be able to get Alisaunne away safely. The girl trusted him. That might allow Methos to leave her someplace safe... someplace else... and with an effective escort, if he needed to get back to Eleanor and Derrick.

The three piled into Methos' car. He tried once more to phone Phillip and MacLeod.as he drove out swiftly. Phillip had mentioned there were others with them... but he hadn't explained who was. Alone and in the dark about who was coming and why they were delayed, Methos did the only thing he could. Drive away like a maniac! Behind him... he could see the others heading out on foot toward the mountains and the cave systems he knew ran all through the mountains. He couldn't be everywhere... Methos only hoped that the choices he was making were for the best. His main concern was keeping those he most cared about safe. He smiled inwardly at the realization that he did care about them... all of them.

Methos just wished he knew where the hell MacLeod and Phillip were, and why they weren't answering. The irony of his not having answered his own phone for the past few days was not lost on him.

***

The traffic tie-up finally seemed to ease and Nick Wolfe was able to begin moving through the gridlock caused by the accident, the emergency vehicles, and the authorities. Just as they were getting within sight of the accident that had tied up traffic, his immortal senses went off as first one and then a second ambulance passed them on the road. There were no sirens blaring... they were likely carrying bodies.

Nick met Marie-France's level gaze. "Should we follow them back?"

Marie-France shook her head. "They are all capable. If all three died in the crash... they will awaken soon. We have to trust that they know what to do to extricate themselves from this situation. I need to get home. I need to make certain my children are safe. If this Nestor is as bad as Phillip indicated... they won't be unless someone warns them."

She was right. Even the children in the back seat knew it. There was absolutely nothing they could do for Amanda and the others. Nick had to pass them by. But he didn't like it... and he worried that it was a mistake.

Once free of the traffic snarl, Nick sped up once more. It might well be up to him to stop this immortal who'd killed two of his friends... and an acquaintance. Nick Wolfe only hoped he was up to the challenge. Maillot hadn't been... but his teacher had been surprised... set upon suddenly and without warning. Nick Wolfe did not intend to be surprised.


	71. Chapter 67

****

Chapter 67

Northeastern France

Within the large kitchen of the estate house, Cassandra forced herself to sit easily and comfortably upon one of the wooden chairs. She had not expected anyone to be here. She had planned to rifle through the place... check for papers... and burn it to the ground before she left. But Ellie's and Derrick's presence here changed those plans...especially young Derrick's presence.

In New York... Derrick had seemed a preternaturally wise but small pre-immortal boy. One who both seemed to know and yet didn't know what was happening around him. He had a wisdom that seemed far older than his ten years... and an innocence that had entranced her. Without her ability to foresee the future at that time... Cassandra had simply been puzzled.

Now, she sensed a remarkable change in the boy... or was it only that her abilities were once more active. When Derrick had hugged her upon her arrival... she'd sensed a future for him as she had not done so before. Within her mind she could see Derrick a grown and charismatic speaker working to bring peace to an embattled planet. She saw immortals lined up behind him, willing to join with him in the crusade for peace. Most of the faces of his followers had been shifting... as though events still in motion might change who stood with him and who did not. But one face was always clear. Within that group Cassandra could see Ellie.

Now she stretched slightly and glanced up at the solemn face of the tiny Ellie. She seemed so much a child... much as Derrick was... how could she possibly be the same woman who'd posed for that portrait? Or had Methos simply commissioned a portrait based on her likeness? Did she even know him or who he was? Cassandra shook her head... surprised at her own foolishness. Of course Ellie knew Methos... she had to know him... or else why was she here... in his house. But she doubted the girl really knew him... who he was. Perhaps she could enlighten her... kill her trust of Methos by sharing some of that ancient history with her.

"Where is Phillip?" Cassandra finally asked lightly as she watched Derrick struggle to pour her a drink of lemonade from a pitcher.

Derrick shrugged, "On an errand."

Ellie said nothing. It was if she were waiting for some admission... some movement on Cassandra's part... some indication of why the psychic were here. Cassandra took the glass of lemonade from Derrick and, noticing his bandaged hand, remarked," What happened to you? Are you injured?"

The boy bit his lip and shrugged.

"May I?" Cassandra asked and reached for it. Even Ellie nodded her approval. Carefully Cassandra removed the gauze and examined the burns and blisters. "This looks like a burn... and a rather severe one."

"I burned it," Derrick said quietly.

"How? On what? This is very bad!"

Derrick shrugged, obviously not wishing to say anything.

"I know an old salve which is very good for burns. Perhaps the herbs I need to make it are here. May I try?" She smiled at Derrick who nodded with resignation. Cassandra glanced over at Ellie who seemed more than a little amused by the prospect. Cassandra rose and began to rummage through the kitchen's meager supplies. Other than some staples and old spices and herbs... there was little here, as though no one had been here for a long time. But she found the things she needed and began to talk soothingly to the boy as she mixed them up into a salve.

From outside, a voice called and, although a bit reluctant to leave, Ellie exited to the yard to speak with what was evidently the caretaker. Cassandra noticed she stood so that she could still keep an eye on the immortal and the boy in the kitchen. Cassandra smoothed the salve onto Derrick's hand. "It will not hurt so much... This will cool your hand. And it will heal much faster. You did not say how you burned it?"

"I stuck it into a fire," the boy finally admitted.

"And why did you do that?"

The boy's head tilted slightly to one side as he regarded her. Then he shrugged. "I wanted to see what would happen... if it would hurt... if it would heal."

"And did you get your answer?" Cassandra smiled gently... obviously the boy had been attempting to discover if he were an immortal. Many children raised by immortals would often chance it. That was one of the reasons it was so dangerous to have the children near them. If they were told the truth... or learned it... their young minds frequently wanted to know if immortality was for them. Too often if they died... they were lost... their immortality never triggered. Others were merely injured... some horribly. Derrick had gotten off rather lightly. Phillip and Ellie must be made to understand that the boy must go back to mortal authorities if it were not already too late. Even if he knew of immortals... he should not remain with immortals.

"You wondered if you were like Ellie, didn't you?" Cassandra seemed to answer his question. "You are not little one... You must never try anything like this again."

Derrick nodded, "I know... they told me. Ellie's already made me promise."

Cassandra sighed. At least the girl had the right idea. 

Cassandra's train of thought was interrupted when Ellie bounced back in. "_Monsieur_ Bouchet says there are kittens in the barn. Would you like to go see them?"

Derrick nodded with a grin and as soon as Cassandra finished with the bandage raced off... telling Ellie she did need to follow him all the time. Cassandra watched Ellie stand at the kitchen door and nervously stare after the boy, while biting her nails.

"If it is his time... you cannot prevent it," Cassandra finally said. "but I do not think it is his time. I see a great future for him... and I see you in it."

Ellie turned to regard Cassandra but did not seem to be surprised at the psychic's words. She shrugged as if in understanding and removed her oversized jakcet. Cassandra noted the large cable-knit sweater the girl wore as well as the harness of long knives on her back. Her eyes widened. That sweater... or one like it... Cassandra had seen its like before. It was too big for the girl... it was _his_... it had to be _his_. Something twisted in Cassandra suddenly.

"He is not what you think he is," she snapped.

Ellie, pushing up the sleeves of the sweater and shifting her shoulders in what might have been small stretches and preparations of battle merely looked flatly at Cassandra without comprehension.

"Methos." Cassandra waited for either confusion or denial on the girl's part. There was nothing. She continued to regard Cassandra without emotion... as if she were walled off somehow.

Finally Ellie curled up in another of the kitchen chairs and wrapped her arms about her legs. "Nothing you say changes anything Cassandra. The past is the past. He is not the man you remember. He will never be that man again. That man no longer exists... not really." Cassandra suddenly saw a profound sadness in the girl's eyes. How old was she?

"You have no idea what he was... what he did... how could you... He raped me! He murdered me! He tortured me! He used me! And he killed all I cared about!"

Ellie pushed at her sleeves and looked out the door at the sounds of Derrick's return. "I know that Cassandra."

"You have no idea how horrible and how demeaning that can be!" Cassandra lowered her voice but her words dripped poison. She had to make Ellie understand.

Instead Cassandra's breath caught in her throat as she saw real pain in Ellie's eyes. Tears brimmed there and the girl was visibly trembling. Ellie swallowed hard. "But I do."

Cassandra drew in a sharp breath. "He did these things to you as well? Then you should not remain here. You can be free of him. Take the boy and go!"

Ellie smiled thinly as she shook her head. "Oh... he didn't do those things to me. Others did. But he killed them all. I awoke to immortality to find that he'd killed my tormentors... he'd unleashed a fury I think you might have recognized and slaughtered them... so that they were no longer even recognizable as human. And I hated him... because he did not leave me one to kill." Her voice took on a dark, edgy tone. Then her face softened. "It took me a long time to forgive him for that." She turned to Derrick whose entrance with a kitten in his arms effectively ended their conversation.

Cassandra stared at them both. Somehow her view of this immortal needed to be reworked. Could she be as blood-thirsty as Methos himself? Look at those knives she wore! And yet she seemed so gentle... so concerned for the boy. As for the boy himself and his future... Cassandra shook her head and excused herself for a moment. She wandered into the main hall and glanced around at its sparseness. Sitting on the wide stairs she pulled the crystal from her pocket and willed it to show her the paths and which one she should take... but it remained only a crystal... she saw nothing in its depths... merely her own reflection repeated on the many facets.

Cassandra looked up sharply realizing the boy stood before her. His eyes were focused on the crystal and his tongue licked dryly over his lips. His breath came in short gulps. His hands reached out to touch it. Cassandra let him.

In Derrick's hands... the crystal glowed palely... but his eyes widened at whatever it was he saw. Cassandra could see nothing.

'What do you see boy?" she asked and reached to shake him slightly from his trance.

Derrick looked up at her. The glow within the crystal died. Terror was reflected in his eyes. "You can't... please Cassandra... don't kill her." Derrick's eyes rolled in his head and he wavered. Cassandra yelled for Ellie as she caught the boy... swiftly grabbing the crystal from his limp hands before it fell and replacing it in her pocket.

"Ellie!" she yelled once more even as the girl appeared. By this time Cassandra had scooped the boy into her arms. "Where should I put him?"

Ellie examined Derrick's eyes and listened to his breathing, "Upstairs!" she instructed. "Follow me."

With the boy in her arms, Cassandra carried the unconscious Derrick up the stairs after the suddenly efficient and not so young seeming Ellie.


	72. Chapter 68

****

Chapter 68

Eastern France

Amanda felt cold in the darkness. Beneath her closed eyelids... she wanted only to sleep. Nearby she could feel an immortal. Her eyes snapped open even as the sound of Duncan's voice murmured softly in her ear.

"There you are... I was beginning to worry." She felt him kiss her as his fingers trailed lightly across her face. Amanda sighed and focused on him.

"You look awful," she said teasingly. Some of his hair had burned away on one side.

"You should see yourself. Then again... maybe you shouldn't." His teasing tone told her they were alone and that wherever they were... they were safe.

Amanda carefully sat up and realized she was on a morgue slab. "Oooh!" she shivered and let him lift her in his arms so that she could stand on the cold cement floor. He wore a white coat and not much else. She was wrapped in a sheet. Duncan's arms surrounded her in an embrace.

From the corner of her eye, a man, likely the morgue attendant sat slumped against the wall. "Is he?"

"Unconscious... although I think it was a bit of shock when I got up off the table and bid him _Bonjour_."

"Phillip?"

"He's in the other room looking for our effects," Duncan raised an eyebrow, "and some clothes we can wear out of here. Ours were burned and the remnants evidently cut off."

By this time Amanda noticed the healing burns on her hands. She grinned, "Perhaps you'll listen to me the next time I suggest you're driving too fast!"

Duncan's shoulders sagged as he nodded. This accident had likely ruined any chance they had for getting to _Ste. Genevieve_ before Nestor.

"Maybe Methos will get there... or Nick and the others." Suddenly Amanda had a horrible fear. What if Nick and the others got there and Nestor was already there? Her eyes met Duncan's... she knew this thought had also crossed his mind. She snuggled into his embrace... worried about Nick and how he would handle the mad immortal. After all... Nick didn't really know everything about Nestor... would he understand what killing the man might do to him... or to one of the others?

"We have to get out of here!" Amanda pulled away and wrapped the sheet about her like a toga. Even as she was doing so she felt Phillip re-enter the morgue with a stack of clothes in his arms. "Can't say much for the fit... but they'll have to do." He tossed the clothes to them and adjusted the shabby long coat he wore over too-tight and overly long jeans and a much too small flannel shirt. Within the coat... Amanda glanced all three of their swords. At least those were safe. She'd feared they'd been lost in the fire or were with the police.

"I don't think they were noticed until they were processing our bodies here." Phillip exclaimed. "There's a bit of damage... but nothing we can't fix. did you doctor the records?"

Duncan chuckled and nodded as he held up a chartreuse sweater. Grimacing at both the color and the smell, he tossed it to one side and rummaged through the pile, finally finding something that was reasonably clean and would reasonably fit. Amanda did the same. They hurriedly pulled on the clothes they selected. Phillip was right... they weren't great... but at least they were clothes and they would allow freedom of movement in a fight. After they were dressed, Duncan went through the stirring attendant's pockets... finally coming up with a set of keys. He smiled as he jingled them. Then he grasped the man's jaw. "You are having a nightmare... go back to sleep. If you mention that the dead got up and walked out of here... they'll likely lock you up and throw away the key... Understand?"

The man nodded his head.

Duncan rose. "Let's go."

The immortals left the small morgue, finding the car with ease... the only one parked out back... and drove swiftly away.

"We have no phones," Phillip said. "Stop somewhere so I can try to call Methos."

Duncan nodded as he entered the traffic patterns and headed east once more. This time... he was in an even bigger rush... but this time... he knew not to push quite so hard.

***

The four immortals exited Nick's SUV and looked around.

"I don't feel anyone," Nick said as he gazed about him at the open vineyard, the small walled convent with its gardens and even smaller schoolhouse.

"Nor do I," Marie-France said and moved forward. Suddenly she feared what she might find. She headed for the chapel and opened wide the doors. Thankfully it was empty. She turned to check out the other buildings... still fearful of what she might find. Everything here was too neat... too quiet. She hoped they were merely gone... That somehow they'd been aware of danger and had fled. One by one she and the others checked every room.

Satisfied at last that there were no dead bodies hidden away, Marie-France stood once more in her garden and looked about... trying to decide what the next step should be. She almost smiled as Nick placed one arm about her.

"They're all safe... They have to be. Didn't Phillip say something about calling the doctor... Pierson? Perhaps he finally reached him... and he was able to get here and..." Nick glanced up uneasily. Val and Kenny were in the courtyard quietly looking around. But... for a moment... Nick swore he felt someone else. "Shhh!" he said to Marie-France and backed away from her as he drew his sword. Nick could see clearly in all directions. The horizon stretched around him and there was no clear sense of anyone besides the four of them. Yet... Nick flexed his sword in his hands... holding it before him... ready to strike... and he walked a few steps away... trying to get a clear sense of what he almost felt... pivoting about... shifting in his _kata_... letting training and instinct guide his movements.

Behind him he heard Marie-France draw hers as well... but it was clear she as yet felt nothing... then she gasped... and Nick knew she felt it too. Across the courtyard... Nick watched Val and Kenny look at him with a question. Val nodded and drew her small blade. She and Kenny stood back to back... circling around and waiting.

Finally the sense of another seemed to fade. The four immortals heaved a collective sigh of relief and relaxed.

As soon as Nick lowered his sword... he felt a sudden piercing pain and looked down at the blood dribbling from his chest. Gunshot? He drew a ragged breath as he stumbled forward a few steps and then collapsed onto his knees. Through the red haze beginning to cover his eyes, he saw a figure detach from the shadows and race toward Marie-France. Nick tried to scramble up. But another piercing pain hit him, this time in the head. Even as the darkness took him... he heard her scream... and he heard maniacal laughter.

"Someone here to play with after all."

***

Kenny took one look at the man who must be this Nestor they spoke of and decided his own head meant more to him than helping the others. He raced off the convent grounds and into the hills.

Behind him Valeraine hissed at Nestor and raised her sword. She might have only a single chance.

Nestor laughed. From this distance, he did not seem imposing in size or ability. He was a man of medium build with blonde hair cut very short. He was dressed in dark clothing that had a smell of sewage and rot about it. He ran his hands over Marie-France and seemed to whisper something into her ears as she struggled against him. When Nick stirred at his feet he kicked him and laughed madly.

Valeraine began to advance... looking for an opening.

"Come and get me little one!" she heard him laugh and he drew a sharp dagger lightly across Marie-France's throat. A small bit of blood oozed from what was likely a light scratch. Valeraine hesitated. "I'll kill her first. And the man." They'll both die and then you can take me. But I will live in you."

For a moment Valeraine advanced another few steps and then she felt the odd hum and the dark, cold shift in the air. She could sense a negative energy all about her... "Dark quickening!" she whispered and stopped. She'd heard of them... Edmund had explained one to her once... so she'd know what it felt like and know not to chance it. "_They are rare... but they do happen_," he'd warned her. "_Don't take the chance._" So... that was why this maniac still lived. That was the reason the gathering of ancient immortals had let him live.

Laughter rose up from Nestor once more. "Are you frightened little one? You should be. Come join me... we could have many pleasures with these two. I can give you the man... give you your heart's desire." Valeraine shivered in the charged air. Nick tried to stir once more and once more Nestor kicked him roughly. Nick groaned and was still... obviously not completely healed yet... at least not enough to make a difference.

Valeraine swallowed and lowered her sword. Kenny had the right idea... run... find another way to fight him. He wouldn't kill them... they'd make him weak and vulnerable. If she backed away slightly... he'd let them live. Even if Nestor did not fear to die... he might not wish to. Valeraine sadly backed away and then turned to race after Kenny... toward the hills. Perhaps the two of them could come up with another plan... something to get both Nick and Marie-France away from the madman... some way to kill him and not be lost in the process.


	73. Chapter 69

****

Chapter 69

Eastern France

Methos headed north. For some reason thoughts of Waterloo filled his mind. It was close. He could take Alisaunne and Ian there and then wait to hear from MacLeod. Surely they'd call. Methos tried once more to reach them and then groaned as he saw the low battery signal flash. "Look in the glove-box for the charger," he instructed Ian. He tossed the dead phone to Alisaunne, huddled between the two of them in the front seat.

"Nothing here Doc," Ian said as he shuffled through the papers and maps.

Methos tried to think when and where he'd last seen the charger. With a muttered curse he realized it was likely at the house. Even if MacLeod or Phillip were trying to call him... he'd not get the call. For the time being he was effectively cut off from everyone.

And, the sense he had from Eleanor... while still strangely calm... was rising in tension as if she knew something and was not sharing... trying to keep from bothering him. It was more unease than fear... so he concentrated on the road and on re-assuring the young woman beside him that despite appearances to the contrary he really did know what he was doing. On her other side, Ian Daffyd grinned from ear to ear at the mental hoops and explanations "the doctor" was going through to try and explain where they were going and why they were not going to the police. Damn! That boy was enjoying himself all too much at his expense. 

Meanwhile... Methos was painfully aware that Alisaunne's hands were laced with Ian's and that in the few days she had been there... the girl had evidently formed a close attachment to the two hundred year old young man. This was not good... not good at all!

He had nearly reached the Belgium border when a sudden sense of fear erupted through him. Swiftly Methos swerved to the side of the road and closed his eyes... attempting to get a sense of what was wrong. He tried to follow the link back to Eleanor... to stand behind her and see over her shoulder... but she'd blocked him somehow... As if his knowing anything about what was going on there was a threat to his safety and what he had to do. Then he felt her with him. "_We're fine... everything's fine. Do what you need to... come home soon._" And then she was gone... closed off. He could not sense her at all.

"Are you all right, Dr. Pierson?" Alisaunne wanted to know. She briefly touched his arm. He smiled wanly.

"I'm fine... just..." he shrugged and met Ian's questioning gaze. The boy knew something had happened but had enough sense not to ask anything right now. "I'm going to need gas soon... and a telephone. Keep an eye out for a place to stop." Methos pulled once more onto the highway headed north. Eleanor was able to handle anything... anything but Nestor. She was Phillip's student after all... and the Greek had taught her well. But Methos knew he could not expose Derrick or her to the chance that Nestor would find them. If Nestor could track Alisaunne... Methos needed to make certain the girl was far away... and nowhere near any other immortals. But Methos felt as if he were being torn in two.

***

Eleanor sat on the edge of Derrick's bed and wiped the boy's forehead with a damp cloth. He was so pale lying there. She could still feel the slight tremors of his small body. Her fear at his collapse had alerted Methos. She'd felt him with her momentarily and had walled off her feelings to let him know all was fine. He needed to help MacLeod and Phillip. She'd sensed his own confusion that the two were not where he expected them to be and that he was tying to protect others. Eleanor had stayed out of it. He'd share with her later, she knew. Right now he needed to concentrate on what he was about. And thus the wall! It was almost a surprise to learn she could block him so effectively if she needed to. It gave her back a sense of privacy that she had not had since the initial bonding in Seacouver. They were still one... but they could also lead separate lives, without the other if they desired.

Eleanor glanced at the tall Cassandra hovering nearby. "What did you say to him?"

"What makes you think I said anything?"

"Cassandra... tell me!" Eleanor snapped at the woman and then shook her head. "I'm sorry... I'm not angry with you... I just need to know."

"I said nothing to him. Our disagreements are for our ears alone. I would not stoop so low as to use a child to get what I can get myself."

"And what is that?"

Cassandra paused. Then she laughed. "I think you know. I want Methos destroyed. I want to see him dead. I had hoped you might be an ally. But I am not your enemy. I am his."

Derrick moaned and shifted.

"Juice... he needs some juice... Stay with him!" Eleanor jumped up and raced down the stairs.

Behind her Cassandra watched the moaning boy. She leaned over him and touched his clammy forehead and felt the tremors. She could still sense his future about him. And Ellie was still very much a part of it. Nothing had changed. What had he meant about Cassandra not killing her? Or was that who he'd meant at all?

Cassandra stood sharply and glanced around. She could almost hear a whisper in the room speaking of the justice of her claim on Methos' life. Like a hundred small voices it seemed to fill the room. Her eyes fell on the sword case she had seen in New York. The one Phillip had taken with him when they'd left her alone in the hotel room with the boy.

Curiously she knelt beside the case and opened it... gasping slightly at the beauty that lay within. She pulled the sword out. It was larger than any sword she'd ever wielded and sharp as a razor. In the light it seemed to gleam whitely in her hands. "_I am the justice of the people!_" it murmured. "_Use me and all will be made right!_" Cassandra smiled and sat back as she ran her fingers along the blade... almost afraid that her touch would ruin its gleaming surface.

"You are beautiful!" she whispered. Looking up she gasped at Derrick who now stood over her... his eyes narrowed and his expression one that did not seem to belong on any child.

***

Finding the juice, Eleanor swiftly poured a glass and then raced back to Derrick's room. As she entered she noticed Cassandra was no longer there... nor could she feel her presence nearby. Derrick sat hunched on the bed.

"Derrick? Derrick honey... are you all right? Where's Cassandra?"

Derrick shrugged.

Eleanor reached out to touch his shoulder and then gasped at what she saw in his hands. She dropped the juice glass, hearing it shatter as it hit the hardwood floor. Eleanor moved backward.... losing her balance and falling sharply to the floor. She scrambled backwards away from this boy and from the nightmare in his hands. She screamed and kept screaming as she let the wall within her fall, so that all the terror within her reached outward to touch Methos and bring him home.

***

This time when the wave of sheer terror hit him along with Eleanor's cry for help, Methos nearly ran off the road. He turned sharply and applied the brakes so that the car did a one-eighty turn near a crossroads. Methos hunched over the steering wheel... trying to get a clear picture of what Eleanor had seen... but it was inconclusive... He only knew she was terrified.

"Change of plans," he snapped at the young people and started off once more... this time west... toward Eleanor... toward Derrick... toward whatever had happened to them.


	74. Chapter 70

****

Chapter 70

__

Ste. Genevieve

Nick groaned and rolled over. He hurt everywhere. Looking up he noticed he was no longer outside but was in a sparse room with a high arched ceiling. He tried to sit up and felt a wave of nausea unlike anything he'd felt as an immortal. An explosion of pain swept across his back and he slid to one side.

"Bet that hurt!" the voice cackled. "Likely broke your back. Not to worry. I'm certain it will heal. Meanwhile!" Nick was roughly kicked about so that he saw his tormentor lean down and peer into his face.

Clear blue eyes met his... pale blue so that they seemed almost devoid of color gazed into his. They were red-rimmed as if straining in the light of the late afternoon. A foul rotten odor assaulted Nick's nostrils and he wanted to gag.

"There now... now you can watch." Nestor ran one filthy hand over Nick's face... softly caressing it and then rose with a leer as he crossed to Marie-France's unconscious form. Roughly he pulled her to a standing position and began fondling her and licking her face. She stirred. Then she struggled.

"Good! I like it when they struggle. I'd hoped for Amanda.... but you will do." Nestor raised his knife and began slowly slicing her clothes away in strips... not caring if he cut her as well. Meanwhile his pale eyes watched Nick's struggles on the floor as he attempted to stretch and heal.

Nick tried to raise his arms. He could see his sword... he had only to reach it. But his arms wouldn't move... not yet. Darkness wavered around him.

"No... no ...no! Stay awake you young pup!" Nestor, dragging Marie-France by her hair as he crossed to Nick, kicked him several times. "I haven't hurt you enough to die... just enough to keep you still for a while. Now watch what I do to her... watch and know you are nothing... you are helpless... you cannot stop me!"

By this time the last vestiges of clothing had fallen from Marie-France.

[Section has been removed as being too graphic for this board by request.

Once through... Nestor plunged the knife into Marie-France's heart and tossed her dead body next to Nick's.

"Comfort her if she lets you." He picked up a massive sledge-hammer and swung it at Nick's legs several times. Strangely.... Nick could feel nothing. Nestor laughed. "Back still bothering you? Best let you heal a bit. Perhaps I should hunt the little ones?" 

Nick tried once more to move. One hand clutched convulsively in the air... but he could not control it. Nestor leaned down and wiped his knife across Nick's mouth so that Marie-France's blood remained on his face. "See you soon..." the monster whispered in Nick's ear and kissed his cheek. Nestor left the room cackling in pleasure. Nick sensed him go. He still could physically feel nothing. Next to him Marie-France dragged in that harsh breath of new life. She started shaking and sobbing... so near and yet he could not touch her. 'Marie... I'm so sorry... Marie..." 

Finally she raised her tear-stained face and clutched at him. "I can't let him kill me... take my head. I may know where the children are... I can't let him find them. I can't endure his attentions again. Help me Nick... please. Help me end this."

"My sword," Nick managed to get out. "It's over there... get it. I can't move... yet!"

Marie-France stilled her sobs and looked about fearfully... afraid that if she went for Nick's sword... Nestor would return. She shivered in fear. She had never in her entire life felt so used and so degraded. She had been a prostitute in her mortal life... she had known the perversions of men. Immortality for her had been a way out...a way she might learn to protect herself from unwelcome advances. With a sword she could kill those who'd tried to use her. Then Darius and Eleanor had helped her to move beyond even that life so that at the end she had found this one caring for the children. They had never intended for her to remain here for all time. Indeed they had often urged her to go beyond these walls and see something of the world. But she never had... at least not far and not for long. And she had never considered that a man might simply love her and offer only a gentle touch. Now even that was denied her.

Taking a ragged breath she lunged for Nick's sword and drew it close to her and then collapsed once more beside him. There was no sign of the madman. She handled the _katana_ awkwardly. She'd never really learned to use many weapons... not really needing them here, but she thought she could manage it. She lay close to Nick and stared into his dark eyes. "I wish we'd had more time." He nodded. Gently she kissed him.

Nick felt he'd never known so soft and gentle a kiss in his entire life. Pain was returning to his extremities so his back was evidently healing. He stretched and bones and ligaments crack as they righted themselves. "Won't be long." His hand clutched convulsively wanting to somehow touch her... let her know how sorry he was. He should have prevented this. He... felt Nestor's returning presence.

Marie-France arranged his hand on the sword handle and kissed him again. Once more his arm convulsed. This time she shifted it so that with her help... he could take her head. "He shall never have me again Nick... I am yours for all time." Nick's arm shot forward even as a tortured cry sounded in his soul. He watched the sword slice evenly across her neck and he felt the quickening... a gentle warmth filled with love and sadness entered him... then the lightning began to crackle as windows blew out about the room.

Behind him he heard Nestor shriek in anger and frustration. Nick Wolfe tried to absorb all that was Marie-France... he saw her sad youth and her desperate young adulthood. He saw the priest who helped her and the strange young woman who befriended her. He saw her quiet life in this place and her long peace of mind here helping to guard the children. He was with her whenever a child died... and felt her sorrow at their loss. Finally, all that had been Marie of France, who'd fallen to her death at the dawn of the thirteenth century from the rising heights of _Notre Dame's_ bell tower because she had been too slow with the water, faded within him and was gone.

Nestor's anger at being thwarted of his toy knew no bounds and as the quickening died... he pounded Nick's still partially paralyzed form again and again as he screamed obscenities into the gathering gloom of late afternoon.

Once he was finished, Nestor pulled out his knife and waited for Nick Wolfe to recover. He still had many plans... and soon... the boy would tell him everything... absolutely everything.

***

In the nearby brush, Valeraine watched the quickening die away with bitter tears. She knew either the man she loved or her dearest friend was dead. If Nestor had taken them... now might be the only chance she had to kill him... but the fear of the dark quickening held her back.

She looked up startled as Kenny descended to her side.

"They're dead let's go before he comes for us."

"Only one is dead. The other lives."

"Yeah, well I don't intend to be the next one. I'm outta here!" 

Valeraine pulled at his arm. "Try to find the Swordmaster... You must tell him that Nestor has a dark quickening."

Kenny threw off her hand. "I got no plans to see him or any other immortal anytime soon." the boy sneered. "Wanta come with me?"

Valeraine shook her head. "I have to stay until it's over. I have to see if there's something I can do."

"Then you're a fool!" Kenny scrambled back up the hillside and vanished in the afternoon shadows.

Valeraine clasped her knees and said a prayer for the souls of her friends and prayed that somehow... some way... someone knew how to stop this immortal before anyone else died.


	75. Chapter 71

****

Chapter 71

Northeastern France

Methos finally pulled into the drive of the manor house. He'd driven as fast as he dared back to the estate, fearful of what he'd find. All thoughts of everything else paled in his need to return. Gravel spilled up and about the tires as he fairly flew the last little bit to the house. Since that moment of Eleanor's absolute terror he'd felt nothing from her... but he knew she still lived. He could sense her. But he also sensed that she was not letting him know anything. He tried letting her know he was on his way. But all he sensed was her presence... no acknowledgment of his desire to reach her.

At the circle before the house he braked and killed the ignition, leaping hurriedly out of the car.

Eleanor sat quietly on the steps clasping her knees. She looked up at him, then stood as he raced to enfold her in his arms.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Cassandra was here."

"What? How?" Methos could not understand how the psychic had found them.

"I don't know, she didn't say." Methos brushed her dark hair away from her face, letting one finger trail lightly across the patterns at her neck. Eleanor smiled thinly. "She's gone."

"Derrick?"

"Inside." Eleanor shuddered.

"What?" Methos murmured; his lips placed against her forehead, his hands already wanting to do more than merely hold her. His fingers ached to reach beneath her clothing and know her once more. She'd withdrawn from him and he needed her.

She pulled back and shook her head. Her face bore a haunted expression that he did not understand.

Methos looked toward the closed door of the house. Clasping her hand tightly, he started to enter, making it clear he expected her to accompany him. She pulled back. Eleanor shook her head once more. She would not come with him. Reluctantly he dropped her hand and entered alone; curious as to what had frightened her... why she was so withdrawn. Within the quiet old house he found Derrick seated in the center of the ballroom, his back to the entranceway. A pale green light seemed to flicker in the boy's hands.

Methos swallowed and stepped behind the boy. Towering over him, the immortal looked down to see Aja's crystal in Derrick's hands. The boy seemed entranced. Methos crouched beside him and then stretched out on the floor resting on one elbow as he closely observed the boy's expression. Aja's crystal had always terrified Eleanor. It had shown her only death... and a death she could not deal with... even long before she had ever taken a quickening. "What do you see Derrick?" Methos asked calmly.

"It's like some old movie. It goes on and on. Always different... It's like I'm there."

Methos reached out for the crystal, "May I?" Derrick handed it to him with a shrug. But Methos saw only what he'd always seen... three children dancing hand in hand in hand by the shore of a sunlit sea. He chuckled and shook his head. Regretfully he passed it back to the boy who gazed into it once more. "Where did you get it?"

"I traded for it."

'Traded?"

"That sword you gave me. Cassandra had lost hers and needed one. I didn't need it. I'm not immortal. I let her take the sword if she'd let me have this. It didn't work for her."

Methos felt his shoulders sag in despair. Cassandra now carried the great sword! Instead of being held by someone over whom it had no power, the sword was now in the hands of an enemy. And the crystal? How had Cassandra gotten it? He'd left it hidden in the vault in London... did that mean she had been there? Did it mean all of his safeguards had failed?

Finally Methos sat up and pulled Derrick onto his lap. Perhaps if they both held it he would see what the boy saw. Carefully he placed his large hands on the crystal about Derrick's. 

***

Eleanor shivered in Methos' sweater as he went into the house. She had no intention of going in there. Glancing back at the car she noted Ian Daffyd and a tall young woman with dark hair approach. Eleanor gave Ian a smile and a shrug by way of hello.

"What's with Doc, Marielle?" Ian asked as he stood beside her, using the name he had first known her by.

"Nothing."

The girl looked at her strangely. "I know you!"

Eleanor looked at her and shook her head. "You must be mistaken." She could feel the pre-immortal potential in the girl. Methos had not said much when he'd left... but she'd gathered that this girl was someone in danger from an old enemy. He had not had the time to fill her in.

"No.... I do know you... I'm Alisaunne de Pres."

Eleanor's head snapped up and she gazed intently at the girl.

The girl snapped her fingers. "I have it! Uncle Jacques gave me a picture of you once... a very old picture. Your name is Eleanor. But... you haven't aged in all this time?"

Eleanor managed to swallow and say, "Jacques de Pres? Your... uncle?"

"Now I remember... He gave me the photo the last time I saw him alive. He said if I ever met you to give you a message. Now what was it?" Alisaunne shook her head thoughtfully. Ian placed an arm about her shoulders. "That's it... He said to tell you to face your greatest fear and there you would find the answers."

Eleanor glanced at the house. She took a deep breath and held it... her eyes closed. Then she slowly let it out and swallowed. Turning she took a few steps, then hesitated at the closed door. Finally she opened it. Slowly she entered and walked toward the ballroom entryway. She saw Methos on the floor with Derrick in his lap. The two of them were holding Aja's crystal. Methos looked up at her and smiled. He raised one arm in a beckoning welcome.

Eleanor crossed the floor hesitantly and knelt beside them. She leaned back on her heels and stared fearfully at the crystal... uncertain if she wanted to be anywhere near this thing. Methos pulled her to his side and hugged her close as his hands returned to cover Derrick's on the crystal. From within his encircling arms, Eleanor stared at the pulsing green and then slowly reached out her hands and tentatively placed them on its surface. Around her the green seemed to swell and grow until she was lost within it.

Alisaunne and Ian entered the ballroom just as Eleanor took hold of the crystal. The three on the floor seemed to vanish into the glowing green light that grew and pulsed from within their hands.

"What is that?" Alisaunne asked.

"Magic," was all Ian said. It was all he knew to say.


	76. Chapter 72

****

Chapter 72

__

Ste. Genevieve

As he pulled onto the deserted looking grounds of the convent, Duncan could feel the nearness of an immortal. He braked and nodded at both Amanda and Phillip as they readied themselves. All three alit from their stolen car with their swords in hand and quickly formed a wedge by which they could protect one another.

"We have to be willing to bend the rules," Phillip had told them on this last stage of their journey. "Nestor will break them all if he can... So we must bend like the wheat in the storm or we will be broken like the mighty oak."

Duncan had nodded at the use of the old proverb. He'd heard that one before. "And we who can be broken one at a time, cannot be if we stand together," he'd added, thinking of another old proverb.

Phillip had smiled with another nod.

"That's Nick's SUV," Amanda murmured as they closed in on it. The doors were shut but the keys were still in the ignition.

"There were more here last time," Duncan said as his narrowed eyes and piercing gaze attempted to see before him all that the land would tell. He could vaguely sense an immortal presence... but lighter... less pronounced than before.

"They're either gone or dead... most of them," murmured Phillip.

Duncan pointed at the scuffled earth in the courtyard and the trail of a body being dragged off. "Someone was cut down, there."

Amanda started forward only to discover Duncan's restraining hand on her arm. "Stay!" he whispered.

As a group, continually circling and watching the shadows, the three moved along the trail. At the door to the small schoolhouse Duncan finally paused. In here was the source of the presence they still felt. He took a deep breath then kicked open the door and raised his _katana_ in preparation.

As his eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod saw he was too late. His urgency and speed at getting here and the resulting accident had sealed the fate of those who had arrived first.

Slowly he and the others approached the small frame of Valeraine, sitting quietly on the floor with Nick Wolfe's tortured head in her lap. Nearby, Duncan could make out the nude and headless form of Marie-France.

"Nestor's gone," the tiny girl's voice offered quietly. "He left about ten minutes ago."

Nick's body gave a convulsive leap as he drew in a breath.

Amanda knelt beside him. "He's still alive." Then she saw him clearly. She gasped!

Both eyes had been gouged out so that only empty eye-holes stared up at her. Nick opened and shut his mouth... only a mumbling issued from it. His tongue had been removed as had most of his teeth, He raised one hand... fingerless... to reach out blindly toward her. Amanda grasped the stub of his hand and held it against her cheek. Anger was rising in her as she realized what was left of this man she had once issued into immortality against his will.

One leg had been removed and the resulting stump batted the floor. The other leg was still there... but there was no foot. Nick's remaining arm had been severed at the elbow. 

Phillip lowered his sword and leaned back against the wall... ashamed at what the others must now understand about his own past... about what he had witnessed and done nothing about for too long... about the horror of and the perversity that filled the once noble warrior called Nestor. 

"If he's only minutes away... we can still catch him." The dark tone of Duncan's voice shocked even Phillip.

"Highlander.... no! Do you not yet understand? If you kill him... you become him."

"We can't let him continue to prey on the world! He has to be stopped!"

"I know that!" Phillip's voice rose in anger. "I have always known it. But neither of us can kill him. We are too powerful! The body Nestor now uses was the weakest of us... chosen to hold his darkness for all time. That's how we thought to contain him. The youngest of us... the most inept... willing to try. We'd hoped if Barak held him, his youth and innocence might be enough... but it wasn't. Barak became Nestor... and at that we had no further choice. We had to bury his evil and walk away. Even Darius knew if any of us killed him... Nestor would have all our skills at his disposal."

"Who was Barak?" Duncan glared at Phillip.

Amanda rose and stood beside Duncan, she rubbed one hand over Duncan's back and tearfully explained, "He was your lover, wasn't he?"

Phillip nodded. "I never took another immortal lover after that. Never! He was so very special to me. Barak was young... filled with a zest for life and an appreciation of and understanding of music that filled my soul. He offered himself as the vessel and all of us hoped his innocence would protect him... but it didn't. Barak was lost that day... only Nestor remained. But his sacrifice made it possible for us to stop Nestor for a time. Now the monster is free once more... and this time... we have no way to stop him."

Behind them Nick gurgled.

"No!" exclaimed Valeraine. "I will not kill you! Even half a life is better than none at all. Please Nick... you'll heal... we can fix you up... You can stay here with us... You'll be safe."

Nick waved his fingerless hand and tried once more to plead with them for an end.

Amanda returned to kneel by his side and gazed at him thoughtfully. "It's not his head he wants us to take..." She stared at Duncan and Phillip as realization dawned on all three of them. "He wants to kill Nestor... if we can arrange it."

"No!" screamed Valeraine and buried her face in the young immortal's chest. "No!"

Nick wrapped his one arm about the child and sobbed with her. Amanda's eyes filled with tears. "It's the only way... the only way he can find peace."

Nick managed to gesture toward Marie-France's body. In that moment, Duncan realized that her quickening had not gone to Nestor... it had gone to Nick. Even tortured, Nick had Marie-France's gentleness and peace within him. Perhaps with Marie-France's quickening to buoy him... Nick might be able to do what the others did not dare.

"Valeraine, where would the others have gone to hide?" Duncan asked quietly.

Valeraine, still sobbing raised her head. "To the mountains. There are some caves there... Ursa would protect them."

"Nestor may have made a mistake. He thought Nick would know what he wanted... but it was Marie-France who likely knew. She managed to keep it from him somehow despite whatever he did. Show me the caves. If Ursa meets Nestor in battle... we may have a bigger battle on our hands than we can imagine."

"Ursa?" Phillip straightened suddenly and fearfully. "Gods... that would be a nightmare! Lass... we need you to find them... Can you do that?"

Valeraine looked at Nick and continued to caress his maimed face. "I can't leave him alone."

Amanda reached out to her, "I will stay... I promise. I won't run away... not this time." She gave the girl a small squeeze on the arm.

Valeraine leaned down and kissed Nick's lips then laid his head on the floor as she rose and bowed slightly to Phillip. "I am yours to command Swordmaster."

"We can't lead him there... and Amanda can't face him should he return." Duncan's mind was a jumble as he tried to think through all eventualities.

"Now you see why there were a dozen of us to start last time. Even if Methos had joined us and we had met Nestor as one... we'd still have been only eight... nine with Ursa... perhaps ten." He winked at MacLeod as he thought of Eleanor."

"Methos..." murmured Duncan. "Maybe he got here first."

"Methos?" asked Valeraine. "The myth? The eldest of us all?"

Phillip glanced down at her with a sober nod. "Aye... he would have come. He would have sent the others away and taken the girl before Nestor arrived. It would be the girl Nestor wanted... the immortal child who could make him invincible." Visions of the bloody bed in that Paris hotel room came to Phillip's mind. _Perhaps that is what they were doing... but Eleanor was not the foretold child!_ Because of that, did it mean the girl was safe with Methos? That Methos who knew what fate had in store for the girl had successfully removed himself from vying for her by joining with Eleanor somehow? There were elements of this Phillip still did not quite grasp.

"Valeraine... slip through the darkness and find the others. Bring them back here. Amanda... stay with Nick. When we contact you... bring him."

"I have no phone..." she started then realized that Valeraine was holding up a phone.

"It was Nick's... Nestor left it behind. I think it still works."

Duncan grasped it and tried Methos' cell number. There was still no answer. "Damn him! Where is he?"

"Likely taking the girl to safety... but where?" Phillip tried to think. Would Methos dare to lead Nestor into any proximity of Eleanor or Derrick? He didn't think so... but his friend had not been thinking too clearly in recent days where Eleanor was concerned... not since Seacouver.

"He has a place near here... perhaps there. At least it's a place to start looking."

"And Nestor?" Duncan snarled.

Phillip shook his head. "We may have missed our chance here. But he won't stay hidden for long. We'll find him. Amanda... we need to go... will you be all right here alone. I don't think Nestor will be back... but I could be wrong."

Amanda rose to give Duncan an embrace. He tipped her head up for a long kiss. "Be careful... I don't want to lose you, too."

"Go!" she whispered and gave him a smile.

Valeraine vanished into the darkness. Phillip watched her go and then he and Duncan piled into their stolen car. "We might need to exchange this one soon."

"We could take Nick's," suggested Duncan.

"No... Amanda will need it later. I wouldn't want there to be any delay because of authorities once we are ready. And... we need to get a new cell phone."

Duncan nodded and started the ignition. Inside he felt twisted into knots. He feared for the girl... he feared for Amanda... he feared for Ellie and Derrick. If Nestor reached any of them... it was his fault for rushing too quickly. Perhaps there was something to be said for a careful consideration of all options before acting. He'd thought so once... but when those he cared for were in danger... he wanted to rush to their side. Unlike Methos who seemed to be able to sit back and judge the best course of action, Duncan could not bear his charges being put in danger.

Carefully, and a bit reluctantly, Duncan MacLeod pulled away from the convent of _Ste. Genevieve_ and drove off into the west once more.


	77. Chapter 73

****

Chapter 73

__

Within the Whirlwind

The boy Methos, sat in the shade of the overhanging rock and blinked in the whiteness of the blinding desert sun. Even the sand seemed to reflect white light. He sat cross-legged and picked up the small stick. Carefully, as Aja had been teaching him he began to draw the patterns in the sand... one upon the other until they all seemed to run together. He glanced up hearing only the wind, and yet, there was a keening on the wind so that it was like the cry of a thousand souls suffering in torment.

Out of the blinding radiance of the desert came Aja as he had first known her. Her black hair braided, the great jeweled and golden collar about her neck above the simple white linen sheath. She crouched before him and took his chin in her hand. Smiling she greeted him in the language of his youth, "Ah my scholar... have you come at last!"

Methos stared into her green eyes and understood the madness he had so often seen there. She had slaughtered those she had sworn to protect. She had lost all those she had loved. She had killed and kept on killing and had enjoyed it. She had finally faced her crimes and through teaching him the keys of the past... she had at last faced it herself and tried to atone for what she had done. They were more alike than he had ever considered.

Every step of his life... she had been a part of it. She had watched him yet she had let him choose his own direction... and had kept offering him another way. But he was here at last. His path had taken far longer than she had hoped.

"You always were determined to choose your own destiny. Now once more... a choice lies before you... Your survival... or that of the faerie child."

Methos the adult stood before Aja and glanced to his right. There he saw the child Aella crouched in a patch of sunlight and drawing the patterns with a crooked stick. She glanced up and held out her small arms toward...

The child Aella was intent on her drawings. They meant nothing... but they were hers... and they were magic the voice of the Faerie Queen had once told her. She glanced up and out of the swirling bright mist came her Faerie Queen... dressed in the garments of the night, which waved and flowed about her. Her silver hair blew in a wind that seemed to come from all directions. Her Lady held out her hands and Aella ran to be lifted high into the air. The lady laughed and then held her in a tight embrace, her green eyes... so like Aella's own... sparkling with tears of joy.

"Oh my dearest child... my only joy... at last we meet."

Aella's eyes filled with tears as the Lady set her down once more upon the earth. She'd heard her voice most of her life in brief whispers that tickled at the edge of her consciousness. The Lady had told her to speak to the knight Sir Edward... to trust him, marry him, and then had been silent when she'd entered immortality. Only in later years, as Aella had wandered the known lands had the whispers begun again. When she'd met Edward in the Black Forest and wished to be with him... the voice of the Lady had said, "_Not yet!_" and guided her to Paris and to Darius. Over the centuries there, the Lady's voice would tell her when to leave and when to return. It had guided her hand in choosing gifts for the priest. It had helped her restrain her hand after the quickening so that she did not kill Darius. Over the centuries, again and again, the voice of the Lady had bid her go and come and had poised her between the two men Eleanor had come to love.

"Once more you must choose," the Lady said softly.

The woman Eleanor gazed levelly into the Lady's face. "I have made my choice!"

"Have you... if it could still be made... what would you do?"

Eleanor glanced at Methos on her left and then to the boy Derrick huddled in the darkness on her right. The boy stared ahead of him and shook his head at something only he could see. He was waiting... 

This was his first memory... his first real memory... as if all the nightmares and the life that had been before this moment were nothing. Derrick huddled in the darkness terrified. He looked up at the tall wandering woman dressed in the colors of the earth who stood before him sadly. She held out her hand as if to beckon him to join her. He shook his head. He did not know her. Beside her came an aged crone... her wisps of white hair blew in the wind. Her green eyes seemed almost devoid of color. She too beckoned. Derrick shook his head. He waited. Finally a light crossed his eyes and he saw Ellie crouched before him. But not just Ellie... she was also Eleanor... who stood in a patch of sunlight breaking out of a cloudy sky. She was the masked woman at the bonfire... dancing in the darkness and asking him to dance with her. He waited. Ellie reached out a hand and Derrick took it... but even as he did so... he knew it wasn't Ellie... it was the other woman... wearing Ellie's face for the moment.

"Oh my little warrior. You still do not know me. You have forgotten the past. I told you that you might when we took the chance the day they came for you, those mortal hunters. I told you the future was still possible if you but believed. Not even death could stop it. Now you must choose... Would you know the past or would you face the future?"

Derrick stared into the face that was no longer Ellie's face and made his choice. "It is the future that matters."

The woman nodded with a smile. "Thus the choice is made."

Eleanor knew nothing of the boy's vision. She reached for Methos with a smile. Derrick was Derrick... he would never be Darius... not even if he had all his memories. And she had chosen Methos... long ago... and she would stand by her choice. "I love them both... but I have chosen him."

The Lady smiled, "Thus the choice is made."

Methos considered his fate. To die and insure Eleanor's survival or to insure his own and face a future without her. She must survive! Derrick would need her. Derrick must survive as must the girl Alisaunne. Eleanor could help the girl as he could not. Methos faced Aja and nodded.

Aja leaned forward to kiss him lightly, "Thus the choice is made."

And the whirlwind faded.

***

Methos blinked his eyes and stirred. His arms were still about Eleanor and Derrick. In their hands the crystal lay dormant and quiet. He glanced up at Ian and Alisaunne, "How long?"

"Seconds, if even that," Ian said.

He ran one hand through Derrick's sandy hair and laughed as the boy looked up at him with an open smile. Eleanor leaned into his chest and he could sense her spirit within him again. He kissed her hair and felt at peace.

"What do we do now?" Ian wanted to know. "Do we stay here or do we need to keep moving?"

Thoughts of Nestor's possible arrival and what he might need to do to insure the others' safety filled Methos with a momentary dread. He could not face Nestor alone! He needed help. And... he needed Alisaunne to help him lure Nestor into a trap. If Alisaunne remained... Ian would remain. Even as young as he was... the Welsh immortal sensed something about the girl and was already drawn to her... as Nestor would be.

Methos murmured into Eleanor's ear, "Have you seen my cell phone charger? The battery's dead and I need to check messages. I need to make contact with Phillip and MacLeod."

"I know where it is!" Derrick leaped up to head out of the ballroom and bound up the stairs. He tossed the crystal to Alisaunne as he passed her. The girl caught it and turned it over in her hands with a shrug. "What _is_ this thing?" The crystal did not glow for her.

"Methos..." Eleanor whispered, "Cassandra may return... I don't know where she went. You're not safe here."

Ian's eyes narrowed. He'd caught the name. He stared at the pair of immortals on the floor. Suddenly a lot of things were beginning to make sense to him. When the doctor met his gaze with a nod. Ian returned the gesture. He would ask no questions nor repeat what he now knew. He understood the peril his life was now in if he ever spoke of what he had learned. But it didn't matter. As long as he could protect the girl... he would do whatever the others asked of him. 


	78. Chapter 74

****

Chapter 74

Eastern France

Phillip dialed Methos' cell phone number once again from the pay phone while Duncan gassed up their "new" car. They'd managed to work a trade at a used car lot and while the car wasn't much to look at, both he and Duncan had approved of the engineering beneath the battered hood. It would work... and there would be no police looking for it... at least not for a while.

Phillip was about to leave another message when Methos answered. Trading information in that clipped shorthand they used, Phillip gave his friend all the details of what had happened and what decision they'd made in his absence. Methos agreed. Now they needed a place to draw Nestor out and finish this once and for all... and Methos had the perfect place in mind. Phillip grinned at his friend's ingenuity. It would work... it would work very well.

Information traded and plans made Phillip hung up the pay-phone. He still need a cell phone... At least Methos now had Nick Wolfe's number and could contact Amanda to start things moving on her end. Phillip watched patrons mill about the station and made his selection. Casually he bumped into the man and patted him down as he apologized. After returning to the car, he cleared the numbers from the phone and entered on its menu Methos' and Nick's. He re-called Methos and gave him the new number, laughing when the elder immortal made some insincere comment about letting his sticky fingers do the walking. It felt good to laugh again.

MacLeod looked at him oddly as he slid into the driver's seat. Phillip pushed his stolen sunglasses up on the bridge of his nose and handed MacLeod a second pair. The Highlander took them and shook his head before donning them. "If I hang out with you much longer... I'll be public enemy number one."

"Ahh... MacLeod... remind me to make restitution to all these mortals in my next life... that is if I am so lucky enough to be granted one.'

MacLeod snorted and turned on the ignition. "So... where do we go." When Phillip told him, Duncan MacLeod grinned with a feral expression. "Perfect!"

***

****

Northeastern France

Derrick sat on the side of the bed and watched as Methos talked and planned. He said nothing. He knew who he was now... or rather who he had been... and he knew Methos and Eleanor... even if he never told them. Derrick smiled secretly to himself. He was an immortal like they were... or he would be some day. But this small body had a lot of growing to do before he might ever be ready. He could wait. The crystal had opened his mind to both the past and the future. But while the past was a nice thing to know... it was the future that interested him more. Besides... Derrick had understood even before Eleanor had made her choice what it would be. He was not who he had been... he was someone new... someone who had surprised all of the ancients and whose choices had confounded them at each step of the way. But Methos was the other half of Eleanor's soul and always had been.

All that had been within the crystal was within Derrick now. He would push it all aside for a time and let this small body grow and learn as it needed to. The young mind still had to develop and comprehend a great deal before all the knowledge hidden within it would make sense. Derrick could wait. The answers to the puzzles hidden on the computer disc would come in time. Already he understood some of it and where it was leading. Methos had yet to put together the other clues... but he would. Derrick might have to nudge him a bit... just to be certain he found them. But he didn't think he would have to do much nudging.

Right now Methos had to concentrate on Nestor. Derrick shuddered... fearing that Nestor could still ruin everything. There was no way to clearly destroy him... not yet. All they could do was to bind him as he'd been bound once before. And then there was Cassandra. Derrick knew he'd have to get the sword back from her. She'd likely give it to no one else. But he had time on his side once more. At least if Methos could contain Nestor, then they would all have the time they needed.

Methos shut off his phone and gazed quizzically at the boy. He reached out an arm and like any normal ten-year-old... Derrick joined him. Methos placed both hands on Derrick's shoulders and peered into the boy's eyes.

"What did you see in the crystal, Derrick, I need to know." 

Derrick shrugged with a smile, "Ellie... showing me the way." In truth that is exactly what he had seen... but only on the surface.

"The way to what?"

The boy shrugged once more, managing not smile. "The future."

Methos eyed him oddly. Oh Derrick knew that look. He knew his ancient friend was suspicious. Derrick gave him broad open grin. "When this is done... Adam... can we play that computer game some more?" He would have to be very careful to always say Adam unless the old one told him his name. He would soon, Derrick felt, he would soon.

"Sure," Methos murmured thoughtfully as he tousled Derrick's sandy hair and led the boy back down the stairs.

Once downstairs Derrick ran into Eleanor's embrace, and held to her tightly. He missed her so much, but he'd say nothing. He didn't dare. He blinked away the tears and smiled up at her. Soon he'd be taller than she was. Soon he'd be grown... if he were lucky... and soon he'd leave her as she had said he would... but until then he would hold on to her.

"Are you all right?" she said softly, the soft tinkling of bells seemed to sound in her voice and he replied with an eager grin and an enthusiastic nod.

"Well then," he heard the boy with Alisaunne say. "What do we do now?"

***

**__**

Ste. Genevieve

Amanda felt the others return. She'd found some drop cloths and used one to cover Marie-France's headless body. Although she understood that the children who were coming were not truly children... there was no sense in them seeing everything.

She wrapped the second one around Nick... now sitting shakily against a wall. He no longer tried to speak. He just sat... dejectedly waiting for what would happen.

Amanda had washed his face so that although there were no eyes in the healed sockets... he looked somewhat presentable. Already he had mostly healed... at least physically. "I need to find you some clothes," she said gently. I wonder if anyone here at the convent would have anything you could borrow?"

Nick's shoulders shook in an almost manic laughter. She wondered if he were imagining himself in a nun's habit or children's clothes.

Valeraine entered leading an elderly nun. The girl dropped the nun's hand and raced to Nick's side, kneeling as she did so. "I'm back Nick."

Nick raised his mutilated hand in her direction, finally making contact with the child's face. He leaned his head against the wall and Amanda knew he was sobbing... though no tears would fall.

Amanda smiled at the child, and then rose, leaving them to their reunion... such as it was. She stood beside the nun who was gazing down at the covered form.

"I'm Amanda. I am so very sorry for this."

The elderly nun looked at her gently and shrugged. "This was not your fault." The old woman lifted a gnarled hand and then said softly, "I'm Sister Luke. I suppose I am in charge here now. The other nuns are mortal. And the lambs... well they are our charges until they wish to enter the game."

Amanda nodded, "The Lost Ones...MacLeod told me that's what you called yourselves... the ones who knew their fate... and had accepted it. Still... I didn't really know her... but I wish I had. And I wish I could have saved her."

Sister Luke glanced over at Nick and the tiny Valeraine. "I think Marie-France saved herself. I sense her presence here still... in him. May it be enough."

"I need to find him some clothes... We have to leave soon."

Sister Luke nodded as she called to one of the boys. Swiftly she told him what to get and sent him on his way. "Ursa!" Sister Luke then called.

Behind her Amanda saw the giant. "So that's Ursa," she thought. MacLeod had once told her about the giant and had wondered what had become of him. As soon as Amanda saw his face she understood why he was here. He could protect the others against most comers... but against Nestor... he would have been lost... he would either have died or been taken over. And if that had happened... Amanda shook her head finally understanding completely why Nestor was so dangerous. She'd not seen Duncan when he was that way. He had told her about it... so had Joe for that matter when she'd asked... but she had not seen. 

Gently the giant lifted Marie-France's body and head into his arms and carried them out of the classroom. He would take her body to the chapel where the nuns would help prepare their sister for burial. Amanda was glad she had been able to cover the body. Sister Luke gave Amanda a brief nod as she followed Ursa from the classroom.

The boy returned then with some work clothes, clean but plain and well-worn, and handed them to Amanda with an almost apologetic look. Amanda thanked him and walked over to Nick. She held them out to Valeraine. Together they dressed Nick.

Later, Ursa carried the crippled immortal to the SUV and while Valeraine made Nick comfortable in the back beside her, Amanda called Methos. "We're leaving now." Amanda turned on the ignition and drove off while Ursa, Sister Luke and four immortal children gazed after her. Their lives and their continued existence in this world lay in her hands, and in the hands of her friends. If they failed... Nestor would be back... and the world would devolve into chaos.


	79. Chapter 75

****

AUTHOR'S WARNING!! While in no way as graphic as **Chapter 70**, part of this chapter is written from Nestor's point of view and does contain his take on the things he has done. There is some violence, but more suggested than shown.

****

Chapter 75

From his hiding place Nestor had watched the immortals arrive and then leave. He smiled. "Phillip!" he'd sneered. Phillip would know what he was looking for. Phillip would know how to find the girl. Nestor considered waiting longer at the convent... but decided even if the others returned... he had all he needed now. If Phillip were leaving... then the girl was not here. Nor would she be here. He climbed into his stolen truck and pushed the dead owner over into the passenger seat once more.

The body was beginning to rot but its odor had a calming effect on him. "Sorry friend... I think we have a little trip to take." He chortled at that. He'd rather enjoyed tearing the young one... what was his name... oh yes Wolfe... apart. Hardly a wolf... no where near old enough to be a real challenge. Only a foolish boy. 

Nestor laughed once more. The boy was likely begging for death. Nestor had left him no way to ever enjoy life again. He'd rather enjoyed removing pieces one at a time... pieces that would not re-grow.

Oh Nestor had considered taking the boy's head when the pup had robbed him of the woman... but it was far worse to leave him alive as he had left him. His friends would have to kill him now... or leave him to be a sacrifice for some other immortal. It didn't matter that Nestor had received no quickening for several days. Soon he would have all the quickenings he wished. But first the girl... he had to get the girl... Once he had the girl... once she was his... he would not be vulnerable ever again. Even during a quickening he would be supreme! No one could touch him!

Nestor turned the truck's radio up full blast and searched for some pounding music. Finally finding it he settled back into the driver's seat and tapped his hand to the beat... thinking of how he'd pound Phillip to a pulp. He'd not known any of the old ones had remained. He'd only found Darius... but he couldn't get to him at the time... and then Darius had died by mortal hands. Too bad! He would have enjoyed him very much! It was Darius who had suggested burying him in the earth. Oh that was a particularly nasty horror... but Nestor had survived it. As he had survived all that had befallen him over the millenia. Although... he'd always wondered what had ever put that particular torture into the general's mind. No matter! He survived... Darius was dead.

Nestor wondered if any of the other's remained. The lovely Rivka with her red-gold hair would have been a prize. But she... too... was dead. No... it was the girl he wanted. Nestor drove thinking of what he'd do to the girl. She'd have to live of course... but she would be such fun to carve. He'd had practice with the others... he was getting quite good at carving them up and keeping them alive. Yes... he would bind her to him and then he would pleasure himself upon her again and again... reveling in her screams.

He wondered what she looked like now. When last he'd seen her she'd been a child. If only he could have gotten to her then... but he hadn't been ready... she hadn't been ready... but she would be now. He floored the gas and grinned ever more broadly until he came to a stop at an intersection beside another truck. He glared at the shocked faces of the old man and the old woman as they evidently got a whiff of his odor or a look at the blood spattering his face. "Getting an eyeful?" he sneered.

The old woman blanched and motioned for the old man to drive off. For a moment Nestor considered letting them go. He would fill their nightmares for many years to come. Then he realized they might just notify police. He hit the accelerator and followed them... bumping his truck against theirs. They sped up. Nestor grinned and floored the accelerator again... this time ramming their truck and running it off the road. As the truck crashed into an embankment he leaped from his vehicle with sword in hand.

It was with great pleasure he listened to their pleas and screams as he pulled them from their vehicle and began slicing them up. All too soon, being only mortal, the old couple was only dead. He wiped the blood from his sword and looked around.

As he looked, Nestor realized he'd let himself be distracted. Now he needed another vehicle and he needed to keep up with Phillip and his friend. Only that way could he get to his prize.

He wandered out onto the road and waved his arms at an oncoming car. As it slowed to assist him, Nestor hid his sword behind him and considered how he should kill this one. She was so young and delicate looking... perhaps he could manage a bit of time to give her a proper send off.

As he finished with the young woman... Nestor sensed an immortal presence. Swiftly he rose and grasped his sword once more. He could feel someone out there in the darkness... but he saw no one. "I am Nestor!" he screamed. "Come to me and die!" He offered laughter to the darkness. The other did not approach. Nestor spat on the ground. "Stay then with the dead! I have others to kill!"

Nestor climbed into the dead woman's car and drove off swiftly. He could no longer afford distractions. He needed to find Phillip's trail... he needed to find the girl before someone else found her. Someone who was old enough to realize what she was.

The dead woman's car had a CD player but it was playing some soft drabble. Angrily he punched at buttons trying to find a way to get it to stop. At last the disc was ejected. Nestor grabbed it and threw it over his shoulder. Then he started punching buttons to get the music from the radio. Finally getting some... he angrily began dialing seeking the pounding rhythms he'd had before. Finding them he relaxed.

***

On the road behind, Kenny looked at the carnage and found it made even him sick. He didn't know these people... they were only mortals... he didn't care. But there was something truly perverted in what Nestor had done.

Kenny crouched by the dead young woman and tried to understand how it was that something he so badly wanted to do... love a woman... something his child's body would never let him do... could be so degrading. He'd watched from the shadows but had seen no opening to kill the immortal. He did not understand why it was the others were so frightened of him.

Mad? ... Nestor was certainly mad. Perverted? ... Oh yes, Nestor was most certainly one of the sickest immortals Kenny had ever known.

He rose with the feeling of an on-coming immortal. It was with some surprise that he realized Amanda was at the wheel of Nick's SUV. She stopped and he climbed in.

"Nestor killed four mortals here. He's on the move."

Amanda nodded and punched in the number she had for MacLeod and Phillip.

"He's on the road. About ten minutes ahead of me."

Kenny glanced back at Nick and Valeraine in the back. Then he did a double-take. Why did Nick look so odd? "Why isn't Nick driving?" he asked.

"Because I am," Amanda seemed to say between gritted teeth. 

Kenny wondered what her problem was. Angrily he sat back and remained quiet for a while as the dark countryside passed them by. Ahead he could see the glow of lights that had to be Paris. "Where are we going?" he finally asked, although in truth he couldn't see that it mattered.

Amanda's cell phone rang. Answering it, she gave their location and then nodded. "Will do." She pulled over to the side of the road.

"Why are we stopped?" Kenny asked.

"We're waiting," Amanda snapped at him. "But if you're in a hurry... feel free to hitch a ride with someone else.

Kenny stared at her sharply. He glanced back at the two quiet figures in the back seat. But neither said a word. "Do you need my help?" the boy finally asked with no sign of the attitude he'd been using.

Amanda looked down. "Kenny... I wish I'd been there for you over the centuries... I wish I'd helped you more. If you wish to stay... we can use your help. If you wish to leave and save your head for this night... I won't hold it against you. We'll manage."

Kenny nodded and sat back. He decided he'd wait... at least for the time being. After all... he might still get a chance at one of them.


	80. Chapter 76

****

Chapter 76

Outside Paris

Methos gazed out over the deserted courtyard. From the wall of the old French fortress, now a museum, where he was stationed, he'd be able to tell when vehicles got there. Nervously he fingered his weapons. He had so many backup weapons on him... he felt even his back-ups had back-ups. Still... he knew it was likely for naught. He sensed Eleanor's approach.

Part of him wanted to curse at her for insisting on coming... but part of him had decided that she was likely right.

"Last time there were twelve of you and only eight of you survived. What chance if there's only you?"

"I won't be alone. MacLeod and Phillip will be there."

"That's three."

"Ian will be there."

Eleanor had shaken her head. "His job will be to get Alisaunne out of there once you've lured Nestor in. He's not a factor."

"I don't want you there."

"Tough..." she'd smiled then and he'd seen the flash in her eyes. She could do what was necessary but still...

"It's too dangerous... You need to remain here with Derrick."

"I need to be with you. I can distract him."

Methos had stared at her.

"He'll know Alisaunne is there you say... What if he sees me? I don't intend to be a victim... But if I can distract him just long enough for Ian to get the girl safely away... It would give you three a chance at containing him. He'd have his eye on me."

"You can't leave Derrick alone."

"_Monsieur_ Bouchet will watch him."

In the end she'd had her way.

Now she climbed the stone stairs. As she stopped next to him Methos put his arms around her and held her... fearful to have her here. She might well prove a distraction... but a distraction for whom. She was his Achilles heel. Eighteen hundred years ago the group facing Nestor had not much cared about one another. They'd been united only in their need to stop Nestor. And it had cost all of them a piece of their soul. And they had been the lucky ones.

Of the eight survivors who'd walked away, Marcus Constantine and Darius had returned to their armies trying to drown the horror in the thrill of combat. In the end... both had turned from all of it... sickened at the death and slaughter. The two, later known as Ramirez and Ashe had focused on living... much as Phillip had. The three had taught their skills and cut a swath through time of lovers and gallantry. Ashe and Ramirez had died long ago. Phillip... well Phillip still lived... but even he had sickened of it all. To him... it really was a game. One he could win... but one he no longer cared to win. He spent too much time in search of oblivion in alcohol. Rebecca had focused on teaching and helping others. Certain that somehow... she could make a difference. Ursa... Ursa had little mind left after what Nestor had done to him to understand anything other than that Nestor was bad. And Methos himself had withdrawn from much of life, content to watch it change around him. The killing and the game still fascinated him... but long before facing Nestor, Methos had decided to participate only sparingly if he could help it. If the experience with Nestor had taught him anything... it was that dark quickenings existed and that any of them could fall victim to one if they did not stop. So cut off from life had he been for a number of years after Nestor's binding... that it was only his loose association with Phillip and Darius over the years that had brought him back to a love and appreciation of life. And then, of course, there was Aella... In his heart she was still his Aella... his immortal wife whom he'd failed so miserably... whom he had wanted to save from this life... whom he had wanted to help survive once she'd been forced to enter it.

"They come," Eleanor murmured, shifting in his embrace.

Methos nodded watching the set of headlights approach. He prayed to all the powers that had ever been that it was MacLeod and Phillip. It was. He could vaguely make them out as they entered the courtyard and sequestered themselves in the shadows.

Methos whistled for Ian. The boy and Alisaunne came forward from the shadows to stand in the center of the courtyard.

Methos had tried to explain things to the girl.

"We cannot call the police. They cannot stop him."

"But why not?"

"Because he has ways of getting past them. He has tricks." Methos had handed her one of his Lugers. "If he gets past us... If he comes toward you... can you use this?"

Alisaunne had looked at it distastefully. "I can fence... what if I use a sword."

"No!" Methos, Ian, and Eleanor had said as one. So Alisaunne had taken the gun. Methos had given her a few lessons and let her test fire it to get the feel.

"He'll be close enough you won't miss. Aim for his chest... then his head. Keep firing until you have nothing left." He had to hope that if it came to it... Alisaunne could stop Nestor long enough so that they could get to him.

With a sigh, Methos whispered to Eleanor, "We need to take our places. I somehow doubt he'd be so foolish as to drive up with his lights on." Eleanor nodded. He kissed her hoping it would not be for the last time.

She kissed him back and then gave him a peck on his nose teasingly. "Don't be long..."

Methos climbed higher into the fortress. It was important that the three of them hide out of Nestor's sensing range... but he worried that it would be too far.

Below him, Eleanor went down to join Ian and Alisaunne. From there she could sense none of the three.

"I wish I knew why this was happening to me." Alisaunne felt as if she had aged ten years in the past few days. Why am I so special?"

"Because you're a lovely lass and he has excellent taste," Ian joked. But his attempt at levity seemed to fall flat. The boy stood behind her and wrapped his arms about the girl from behind. 

Eleanor envied them... then realized that she could sense Methos behind her... staring over her shoulder... focused on what she saw. "_I love you!_" she seemed to hear him say. Eleanor smiled and sent the same back. She could almost feel his chuckle and his kiss on her hair. She focused on the gates. They'd closed them... but they were not locked. When they'd open... that would be the sign to move. Hopefully they'd sense him long before he reached the gates. By the time he got into the courtyard... MacLeod, Phillip and Methos would be on their way.

Eleanor shivered a bit and went into her warm-up, stretching and shifting as Phillip had long ago taught her. Still and small she would wait... then she'd move... swiftly and silently. Methos had warned her not to behead him. "Kill him quickly if you need to, but don't take his head. We need him alive."

In the darkness... time seemed to stretch interminably. Finally Eleanor thought she could sense him... but he seemed closer than the gate... Worriedly she turned about. She caught Ian's eye. He felt it too. If this was Nestor... he was within the courtyard already. He had found another way in. He was close and the others were too far away. Eleanor focused her fear and sent it to Methos... and felt his rage at having missed something... at having underestimated the madman and put them all at risk.

When the shadow along the eastern wall moved, Eleanor signaled Ian to take Alisaunne and run back into the fortress. She drew her light short sword in one hand and drew one of her knives in the other. She focused on the shadow and moved swiftly to intercept. As he tried to pass her by she swung her sword at him and felt the clang of steel on steel. Eleanor twisted and attempted to drive her knife into his gut. He grasped her hand and shifted, catching her within his grasp.

"I know that move," he sneered. "Phillip taught me that one. Later my dear... Right now... NO... dis... trac... tions." She smelled his fetid breath as he breathed on her face and licked his tongue across her mouth. "Mmmm!" Then he bit her face as she twisted in his grasp attempting to get leverage. She almost worked loose, and then she felt a knife enter her heart. "Later!" she heard him say as he tossed her to the ground and vanished into the fortress in pursuit of Ian and Alisaunne.

Eleanor attempted to rise, but knew it would be a while. She sank into oblivion with a sense of foreboding.


	81. Chapter 77

****

AUTHOR'S WARNING!! Some violence but nothing nearly as bad as **Chapter 70**.

****

Chapter 77

Ian and Alisaunne headed as planned deep into the old French fortress. Reaching the inner room Doc... Methos... had told them to hide in, Ian told Alisaunne to get inside then he began closing the heavy wooden door. If Eleanor had delayed Nestor long enough... he could get it shut and the bolts thrown... then no one would get in. If she hadn't? Ian didn't want to consider it. He'd had only a brief glimpse of the nightmare, but it had been enough to firm up his resolve. He began shoving the heavy wooden door shut. He wished it were steel... but knew it should delay Nestor just long enough...

It was nearly closed when he felt his enemy on the far side of the door. The madman cackled as he slammed into the door with such a force that Ian was momentarily thrown backward. Instantly he shoved against the door again... but he'd lost the momentum. Already the door was inching back the other way.

Ian pushed with both hands. Alisaunne raced up to help him push... but her nearness seemed to further enrage the immortal attempting to gain entry. There was another massive _thud_ as the door shot open just enough for Nestor to slip into the room.

Immediately Ian drew his sword, a one-handed broadsword and his revolver. He motioned Alisaunne back and behind him as he circled away from Nestor. There was nowhere to go... Nestor had gotten there too fast.

Nestor laughed and then casually backed against the door, kicking it shut. "Go ahead and kill me boy... I'll only get stronger. I'll be in you! And she'll still be mine." He reached behind him and threw the bolts as the door shut. Nestor laughed. "No way out... no way in... just us!" Even as he threw them... Ian heard the others arrive outside.

Ian fired at Nestor. "Maybe I can't take your head... but I can kill you!"

Nestor reacted to the shots... one after the other and dropped momentarily to his knees. He growled for a moment as he waved his own sword before him. Then he seemed to pull in to himself and rose upward with his arms wide. "That which does not kill you... only makes you stronger!" Already the bullet-holes were healing. Nestor glared at the young people and then ran at them, slicing with his scimitar and screaming loudly.

Ian backed up and fended off the strokes. Behind him he could hear Alisaunne scream. "Get back!" Ian yelled.

He had to delay the madman somehow until the others could get through the door. He had to protect her. Gradually though, he was losing ground. Back and back until he was against the wall. Ian dug within himself for all the strength and cunning he had accumulated in his two hundred years. He knew it wasn't enough... but maybe... just maybe... the others would break the door down in time. He could hear wood splintering in a few places... but the door was heavy and big. They might not be in time.

Ian suddenly realized that Alisaunne was no longer behind him... but to one side. His eyes locked onto Nestor's as he continued to feint and lunge attempting to keep the madman focused on him. Attempting to delay what he feared would be the inevitable.

Suddenly Nestor, as if bored, made a shifting move almost faster than the eye could follow. With the move... his scimitar sliced down on Ian's sword arm. Ian screamed as he saw his arm begin to fall away. His knees began to buckle beneath him... he had failed and the door was still between Methos and his friends and Nestor.

The madman stood over him only a moment with his sword raised and his eyes almost seeming to glitter in the darkness. "Sorry... can't put you out of your misery right now... all the more fun... you can watch." Nestor turned with a laugh and approached the screaming Alisaunne.

***

When Methos had sensed Eleanor's warning... he'd already had his cell phone ready. He hit MacLeod's number and raced down the stone stairs. "He's inside!" Methos shoved the phone into his pocket and leaped down from a parapet to the ground. He was momentarily delayed as his legs twisted beneath him. He felt the break, but knew it would heal quickly. He grimaced as he struggled to his feet and limped toward the center of the courtyard.

As Nestor had thrown Eleanor to one side, dying, Methos had known she was at least still in one piece. He was kicking himself mentally for having allowed her to be part of this... but he had to hope that she had delayed Nestor just enough. Already MacLeod and Phillip had hit the earth and were running after Nestor. Methos paused by Eleanor long enough to turn her over and pull the knife from her heart in hopes of speeding the healing. It always took her so long to come back, and this was the second death in as many days. He could sense nothing within her... nothing... no spark... no bare glimmer of quickening. His hand caressed the side of her face where Nestor had bitten her and torn her cheek wishing that he could somehow bring her back faster... give something of himself, so that she'd return more quickly. He whispered softly, "Return to me." He wanted to remain... but knew she'd be fine... she had to be. He grabbed her short sword and placed it in her hands... then swiftly followed MacLeod and Phillip.

Everything was going wrong!

Ahead of him he could hear MacLeod and Phillip cursing as they beat against the heavy door Methos had hoped would prevent Nestor from getting to the young people. Now... the madman was inside with Ian and Alisaunne... while Methos and his companions were the ones on the outside. .Methos groaned and raced to the implements he'd hidden in another room... just in case. He grabbed the axes and the huge mallet. Tossing the axes to the others Methos began swinging desperately against the door... feeling it splinter ever so slightly. He stepped back and the three of them took turns hacking away at the heavy door.

Inside... they could hear Alisaunne screaming.

***

Alisaunne held the Luger before her and screamed at Nestor to stop... to leave Ian alone. The gun shook in her hands... her palms were sweaty. Why hadn't Ian's shots stopped him? Was this guy on drugs? And he was so filthy... do disgusting. She'd had no idea what to expect and this was a nightmare... When he'd jumped into the classroom at _Sacre' Coeur_ she'd barely seen him... but he hadn't seemed so disgusting... so ragged and filthy... just frightening. She'd run... but she was through running. Alisaunne squeezed the trigger and kept on squeezing until she could hear the empty clicks again and again.

As before, Nestor collapsed momentarily on one knee and seemed to focus on his injuries. As before, he leaped up again screaming triumphantly. Alisaunne thought she could sense a cold wind charged with electricity blow through the room.

Then he was on her. His breath was like rotten meat blowing into her mouth as he rammed himself against her. Alisaunne struggled as she pushed against him. She bit down on his lip and tongue in an effort to get him off of her. He pulled back and laughed. She spit the nasty taste of him out of her mouth.

"Ah my beauty... we are meant for one another."

"Never!"

He slammed her right hand against the wall and poised his knife above it. Leering at her he began to carve and slice at her hand and arm. Never had Alisaunne been in so much pain. She screamed in terror for him to stop.

He did so momentarily. She was aware he had sliced his own hand and now was rubbing it into hers while he began to lick her face once more... biting her as he did so. 

Alisaunne's hand burned as though it were on fire. She closed her eyes and collapsed momentarily against the wall while he began slicing away at her clothes and making gashes on her everywhere. With her free hand she reached behind her for the small knife Ian had given her.

"It's not much... but maybe it will help," he'd said.

She grasped the handle and took a deep breath, sucking in the rotten stench that was Nestor. Certain of her move... she whipped her arm out and slammed the knife into his chest.

He stumbled back a moment... roaring in anger at the interruption.

Allisaunne launched herself toward Ian even as she knew the madman was pulling the knife out of his chest with an almost feral glee. His laughter rose in the darkness. "Oh... you _are_ a treasure! What a pair we shall make!"

Behind her, Alisaunne heard the splintering of wood increase. Nestor turned as the three men finally broke in. The madman raised his hands as he faced them.

"It's too late... she is mine! Body and soul to the end of time! Kill me and I become you! Kill me and my power only grows!" 

The three men hesitated as they circled. In their hands Alisaunne could see swords glinting in the darkness... catching the small glow of the security lights in the hallway outside. She drew herself up closely to Ian. He was breathing heavily and whispering about being so sorry. "Shhh!" she said. "It's not your fault." Her hands caressed his face and she lay against him. She was through sobbing... she was through screaming... she was through running. Hatred boiled up in her. Alisaunne's hands found the hilt of Ian's sword. She lifted it... _He_ would not have her again!

"You..." Nestor said as he pointed to Duncan. "I don't know you... but I feel the darkness inside whispering to come out of you. You are like me. The darkness is still there. Kill me and you know the fate that awaits you. Phillip... student... teacher... friend... betrayer..._ lover_. Kill me now and all your skills are mine. And _you_..." Nestor pointed to the man Alisaunne knew as the doctor. His voice was an accusation. "Once the world trembled at your passing and now what are you... Nothing! You are no one. But kill me... and reclaim your lost past." He threw wide his arms as he laughed. "Is this the force arrayed against me this time? How your numbers have dwindled! You are pathetic!"

Ian's sword slammed into Nestor's back and erupted through his chest. He gasped and turned meeting Alisaunne's blazing eyes as he fell, "Now who's pathetic, you piece of shit!" she spit at him and stepped back to watch as he crumpled to the floor. She kicked him and spat at his dead form. Then, with as much dignity as she could muster... she pulled the remnants of her clothing about her and turned to kneel once more at Ian's side.

Behind her she heard him roar and struggle once more. Fearfully she looked back and saw Duncan, the Doctor, and the other man thrust their swords into Nestor's body again and again. Then Duncan's companion... (did Nestor call him Phillip?)... began to drag him out of the room. The doctor made a phone call on his cell phone. "We have him... come on in," he said quietly then met Alisaunne's gaze apologetically. Shame-faced he followed Phillip out of the room.

Duncan knelt at her side... quickly throwing his jacket about her shoulders. Alisaunne shrugged it off and bent down to kiss Ian. "Next time Ian Daffyd, I want a real date... I didn't care for this one!"

Ian laughed shakily through his pain. "Ah... Alisaunne de Pres... you do have a gift for understatement."

She laughed then... but it was a nervous laughter as the shock of everything began to hit her. Once more she felt Duncan's light touch on her shoulders as he tried to comfort her and once more she shuddered, shaking him off. "Go away... I can't bear you here now."

""Stay here... no matter what you might hear or see... Stay in here. Keep her here." Duncan rose and left.

"Your poor arm," she reached for his arm and then saw he was holding it as if it were still attached. She could almost make out the blood pouring out of the wound. Ian's left hand was over the slice as if somehow the arm would be whole once more if he just held it together.

Behind her someone flipped a switch and the lights in the room's display cases came on. While it was still dim in here, she could see Ian much better. Though his face was drawn and pale, and pinched in pain... his eyes looked at her with a touch of amusement. "It'll be fine... it's not so bad."

A pale and shaking Eleanor knelt beside them. Alisaunne was glad the tiny woman still lived, she'd been worried about her. Filled with curiosity, the girl touched the blood on Eleanor's dark shirt. The woman flinched, "I'm fine." But Alisaunne saw the hideous bite and bruise on her face. "Let me take a look at that Ian," the woman said.

Ian lifted his left hand from the cut and nodded. "I almost have feeling back in the hand." He wiggled his fingers slightly, a grimace across his face as he did so. "Hurts like hell, though."

Alisaunne gasped as she realized that the arm was re-attached. Somehow... Ian's holding it back was helping it to heal. "You're like me..." she said. "You heal when hurt."

Surprised, Ian and Eleanor both stared at her, questions in their eyes. Eleanor wiped at some of the blood on the girl and stared at the smooth skin beneath.

"Uncle Jacques told me never to let anyone know. From the time I was very small, I knew I healed if I were hurt. He told me to keep it a secret." She held out her palm where Nestor had sliced it. "He didn't know... He thought I was helpless. But I wasn't... I... wasn't..." Suddenly she began to sob. "I couldn't stop him... I couldn't stop him."

Eleanor put her arms about her and held her, rocking her slowly back and forth as if she were a small child, frightened by a nightmare. "I know... I know."

Alisaunne wept as though the world were ending. Suddenly she wondered if she would ever breathe fresh air again or be able to close her eyes and not feel Nestor on her. She wailed into the night.


	82. Chapter 78

****

Chapter 78

Nestor drew in a ragged breath. His hands were bound behind him... handcuffs he thought. He pulled with force and felt the steel cut into his wrists. If he pulled hard enough... he might just get them off... given enough time. He tried to move and realized he was lying on his stomach on a board. A wooden partition was around his neck. He struggled to look up and realized where he was... the guillotine.

Roaring with laughter.... Nestor looked out at the immortals assembled before him. "You think this will stop me? You fools! My quickening will take at least one of you and you will _be_ me! I will live on as I have before! Not even death can stop me! Even if you back away... it won't work. I will simply be reborn into a child you may never find until I rise once more! I am immortal! I am eternal! I am darkness! I am the demon who haunts your dreams until the end of time!"

The immortals regarded him calmly.

Nestor looked into the eyes of each of them. "Amanda," he whispered seductively. "We missed our time... I had such lovely plans for you." Amanda looked at him with hate. He stared at the boyman. "And you. I watched you slink through the shadows all over Paris... but you were nothing... no one feared you. Come closer boy and know me better. Take me and no one will ever sneer at you or your lack of size again. Together we _can_ be the one." The boy's eyes widened slowly as if the idea suddenly had merit. "_Ah..._" thought Nestor, "_the seed is planted._" He looked at the little girl with the long blonde braids. "I had your friend. The young woman who came with you to Paris... She was delicious. In time... I will have you too." The girl closed her eyes and seethed with fury. Nestor smiled. He almost had her ready to attack.

Next he saw Phillip. "My friend... my dearest love... why have you turned from me? Am I not still your soul-mate? Come... join me... We can be as one again." But Phillip's face was hard as a rock. Nestor would get nowhere there. Next he looked at the champion... "MacLeod is it? Once you took one such as I... come... embrace me... as you know your own soul desires. Already the darkness in you begins to stir once more." The Highlander gave him a dark look... "_He knows I speak the truth,_" thought Nestor with a laugh. Then he looked over at the old one... the one who'd been there before with Phillip. The one he sensed had once embraced darkness as his only love without having to take a dark quickening. "I am what you will be once more." Nestor's eyes glittered in anticipation. Before the old one was the small dark-haired woman. The old one held her as she stood leaning back slightly against him. Nestor smiled and cast out his last retort to the individuals of this group, "Oh little one... you tasted so good... if only we'd had more time... Come... take your revenge and I'll fill you to overflowing." But in her eyes he saw only calm. He was nothing to her and would never be anything else.

The immortals had not moved. 

"Where is my bride and that foolish boy?" Nestor said with a nervous laugh, trying a new tactic. "She knows I am with her always. She will always be mine! Do they not wish to say farewell?"

Still the immortals said nothing. Then they began to look at one another and seem to make the decision. Nestor licked his lips... which one of them would it be. The last time they'd chosen that young one Barak... hoping his youth and innocence would protect him... it hadn't. Nestor had devoured all that Barak had been in moments. He had risen before them and killed two of them before they'd bound him in chains and left him in darkness. But he remained! He survived! He would survive once more!

Slowly the immortals began to shift aside so that Nestor saw who sat amongst them. Suddenly he realized what they had planned... he began to struggle and throw curses at them. They said nothing but slowly moved back... away from him. One by one they left the room and then shut the wooden door. Nestor was alone with the immortal he'd tortured... the immortal he'd so crippled that the man could do almost nothing. Almost...

Nestor saw where they'd tied a rope from the lever operating the guillotine to Nick Wolfe's one remaining arm. The end was wrapped several times about his arm. The sightless man gazed in his direction with a look... not of hate... not of revenge... but only a sad acceptance. Nestor had thought he would beg them for his death... but he'd misjudged the strength of the man... and his strong sense of justice.

Nick lifted his arm. Mangled words that made no sense came from his tongueless mouth... a strangled sob followed as he pulled sharply down with his arm and the blade of the guillotine fell.

Nestor saw the blade come and screamed!

***

The quickening seemed to roll in a darkness of red and black. Negative energy leaped from Nestor's corpse into the air. A swirling shadow of black rose from the body... hovered slightly and then shot into Nick's body. He couldn't see it... but he felt it. It was like an icy cold finger of death slicing through him as Nestor's knife and sword had sliced through him earlier. Nick lurched in the chair and felt lifted for a moment. Scenes of torture filled him. He was the one with the knife... he was the one raping and killing. He was the one designing ever more creative tortures that broke the minds and spirits of men. He was the one... he had always been since the dawn of time. Time after time... his host body died but the darkness remained and ever-new perversions were born.

Around him Nick felt the negative energy boom and implode as if he were at the center of an atomic bomb. He saw only darkness and felt darkness ooze into him as it slid along his nerve endings and kissed his sightless eyes. He had no way to respond to the darkness. He had no feet to walk toward it nor arms to grasp it to him. He had no tongue to sing its praises or eyes to behold its glory.

Then... deep within his soul there was a gentle light. All that remained of Marie-France flickered in the face of the darkness. Nick focused his inner being on that light. "A single candle can defeat the darkness," he'd learned in Sunday school as a boy. If he let her goodness and gentleness be that candle... perhaps he could hold onto some semblance of himself. "_I am here_," he seemed to hear her whisper. "_I am always here. I will never leave you._" Nick ignored everything but the small flickering light of Marie-France. Around him... the implosions were silenced and he felt his body settle once more onto the chair. 

***

"It's stopped," Valeraine cried and tried to open the door. 

MacLeod stopped her. "Not yet."

"He needs me!" she insisted.

Amanda's arms went about her shoulders. "We need to wait... just a little longer, Valeraine. Just a little longer."

After a few minutes of silence, MacLeod cautiously opened the door allowing Valeraine to race once more into the room. She had no eyes for the maniac on the guillotine... he was dead... as dead as any of them would be in such circumstances. Her eyes were on Nick, sprawled in a stupor on the chair, the rope still wrapped about his one arm.

Carefully Valeraine unwrapped the rope and caressed his face. It did not seem twisted in madness as they had feared... but calm... as if he dreamed of paradise. A strangled moan arose from his damaged mouth. He had no teeth, no tongue to help him speak... only grunts and mangled sounds issued forth. Valeraine lay a hand to either side of his face. "I'm here Nick... I'm here." He nodded and raised his one arm to embrace her. His shoulders shuddered and she thought he must be weeping, though no tears would ever fall from his sightless eyes.

Amanda approached slowly, sadly until she stood beside them. "How is he?" she asked fearfully.

"I think he may be all right." Valeraine said and hugged him.

Nick's arm lifted, seeming to search for Amanda. She came forward and his hand touched her arm. Then his face hardened. The fingerless hand rubbed harshly against her breasts as a maniacal laugh issued from his mouth. Amanda moved back shuddering.

"Nick!" yelled Valeraine. "Stop it... Nick please!"

Her voice seemed to calm him once more.

"He _is_ Nestor... He will have to be watched," the Swordmaster said sadly.

"No!" cried the girl. "He's Nick... you'll see... He'll be fine." But even she seemed to realize the immortal's chances for returning to who and what he had been... were slim. But in this body... as damaged as Nestor had left it... they had this one chance to contain him... until someone could find a way to finish him once and for all.


	83. Chapter 79

****

Chapter 79

The beginnings of dawn were painting the eastern sky.

Phillip and Duncan carried Nick to the SUV and secured him in the back seat. Valeraine climbed in beside him once more... talking to him... saying his name again and again.

"Are you certain you don't want me to come with you?" the Highlander asked Amanda.

"No." Amanda smiled into his brown eyes and kissed him lightly on the lips. "But I'm not running away anymore... I'm running to something. They'll need me there for a while." Amanda's plans included returning to _Ste. Genevieve_ and helping Sister Luke re-organize the convent and the school with an eye toward the future. It would still be a secret from most immortals... but from what Amanda had seen... and Duncan had to agree with that... it was a hap-hazard operation at best. Amanda's business sense and organizational skills might be of assistance. "Those children need a real fighter there... or they'll never learn how to survive."

"Just make certain fighting is what you teach them." Duncan grinned and held at her arm's length. "I can just imagine what a gang of second story thieves and pickpockets they would make."

"Duncan... you wound me." Amanda tapped the end of his nose with one slender finger. "I don't plan on remaining forever... but I need to do this." She glanced at the SUV. "One of us has to keep an eye on him... and right now... that will be me."

"If he lets you. Val seems to have the inside track with him right now."

"But she loves him." Amanda sobered a moment. "I can see what might need to be done." She placed her hands on either side of his face as she smiled. "I'll be back... or you could come for a visit occasionally. We'll stay in touch... just keep those pesky Watchers away from the place. That's the important thing."

"What about Joe?"

"Tell him I'm fine... really. The rest..." Amanda shrugged and glanced at the others. She shook her head. "I think what Joe is told may need to be something you and Methos decide. I love you," she whispered as she pulled close for a kiss. Then, donning sunglasses, she backed away. "Kenny!" Amanda barked.

Kenny looked at her. His face showed his dislike for the situation and his distrust of everything, including her.

"If you are coming... fine. Get in!" Amanda said and then whipped her sword out to rest at her student's neck. Her other hand grasped his shoulder. "But know this. If you try anything... I _will_ take your worthless head without a second thought."

"Maybe I'll just find my own way!" he snapped back at her petulantly.

Amanda sheathed her sword. "Fine... Go your own way." She slipped into the driver's seat and turned on the ignition.

Kenny looked around and then hurriedly got into the front seat beside her. 

Amanda smiled, gave a little wave, and pulled out.

Duncan watched her go. Part of him wanted to go with her. Part of him wanted to help keep an eye on Nick... but Amanda was right. It was safer if he didn't go... not now... not while things were still touch and go with the young immortal. She'd call if they needed to come up with a better plan. Meanwhile... Nick would be cared for at _Ste. Genevieve_. Perhaps that loving care of those who called it home would help him at last overcome the darkness that now dwelled within him. Duncan knew just how hard it had been for him to re-find himself. After all... it wasn't as if Nick could be given a sword and allowed to fight himself in a sacred pool of water. Duncan had wanted to be saved, Methos had explained, Nestor did not. Nick would need to find another way to free himself completely from the evil that was Nestor. Already he was showing more strength than they had thought possible. Perhaps the quickening of Marie-France was helping him. Duncan prayed Nick Wolfe would find his way back. Then, and perhaps only then... could he be allowed to die. Until then... anyone who killed him might once more unleash Nestor upon the world.

Duncan stepped back with the others. Methos was just getting off his cell phone. "I spoke with Joe. He'll have a clean-up crew here in thirty minutes. That should give all of us time to clear out of here. They'll take care of the body. The museum doesn't open for another two hours."

Duncan nodded.

"I want to go home... to _Sacre Coeur_," Alisaunne said softly. "I need to know they are all right. I need to let them know I'm all right." Her voice shook a bit. Ian Daffyd put his newly re-healed arm about her shoulders. Alisaunne turned toward him sniffling. "You _have_ to come with me Ian... I can't face this without you."

"Do you have a place to stay in Paris?" Duncan asked the young man. When he shook his head, Duncan added, "I think you could stay with me for a while."

"Thanks," Ian replied.

Duncan motioned them toward the old car. In his pockets were the keys to Amanda's _Ferrari_. She'd wanted him to take good care of it for her. But this heap would do to get them out of here and back into the city. He'd have some explaining to do at Alisaunne's school and the three of them would have to come up with a cover story that would be believable about what had happened. But Duncan thought he could manage it.

"I'll take them to Paris and drop them off, then join you at this estate you're at. I want to see Derrick again."

"We won't be there long Duncan, not with Cassandra knowing about it." Methos had managed to fill Duncan in on her little visit. "But even if she has access to all the information that was stored in London... I have more than she can possibly imagine... and other places to go."

"But with the sword..." Duncan was clearly worried. He'd felt the pull of that thing... He understood the danger it posed.

"Precisely while we'll be moving on." Methos arm rubbed up and down Ellie's shoulders in the cool morning. To Duncan she still looked shaky and weak. Her face was still bruised although the rip was almost healed. But her eyes had a fragile look to them. Duncan was worried, she seemed far more like the frightened waif he'd first met than she had at any time since.

Duncan flashed her a brief smile of encouragement, which she returned. "Bye, Duncan... See you soon." Ellie leaned into Methos' embrace and seemed content to remain there. The old immortal's arms encircled her protectively.

As he drove away with Alisaunne and Ian... Duncan glanced back at the three old friends... waving at him as they vanished behind him in the distance.

Phillip turned to Eleanor with a look of sadness. "I'm going too. I need to go home. I have a hospital to build and my people to care for."

"Derrick will want to see you." Eleanor insisted.

"No Little Sister, not now. But in a few years... send him to me... when he's grown... when it's time. I'll teach how to fight then... if he lets me." Phillip grinned. "I'll teach him everything... Even those moves I haven't even taught you." He winked. And then with a serious expression reached to her chest where he could see the dried blood from the knife wound. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"I'm fine... really." Eleanor lifted her dark turtleneck up to show him the healing scar. It was still angry and red. "It just takes me a while you know... and twice in two days didn't help, either. But I had help." She smiled at Methos. His strength had helped her recuperate a little faster. She'd drawn from him through their bond, as she had needed to... just enough... to be there at the end... to help comfort Alisaunne after the rape, and to be able to face Nestor at the guillotine with the others.

"By the way," Phillip said. "I posted those letters to the two of you from Darius to Methos' post office box in Geneva before we left Paris. Good thing I did so... what with the crash and the fire. You can reclaim them when you get the chance." Phillip had managed to tell them briefly what was in the other two letters. "You and MacLeod may need to check out that chapel at Waterloo one day soon. I think our old friend must have left a clue there." 

Phillip backed away with a smile and gave them a wave. "Come see me sometime."

"At least let us drive you someplace," Methos called after him.

"No... I think I'll do it the old-fashioned way. I'll walk for a bit. I need some fresh air after this and time to think. You do realize I walked for years before modern transportation was invented don't you?" He waved again and then sauntered off... a whistle on his lips.

Methos gazed down at Eleanor. "Your carriage awaits my lady!"

"Good... I don't think a long walk is what I need right now."

Methos grinned and lifted her into his arms. She squealed. "Who said anything about walking?" Methos teased as he carried her to the car.

Soon they were driving north. Methos knew they needed to get back. Eleanor would need a day or two to fully regain her strength. Once she was better, and MacLeod had joined them... they could see about moving on. From what Phillip and MacLeod had said, MacLeod might need to locate Darius' original research. Darius had left a clue at Waterloo for the Highlander to follow. Perhaps the research itself was there. And then there was the stuff still hidden at the hotel. He'd told MacLeod to bring it when he came. They'd have a lot to go over. The priest had left a number of clues behind. It was time to put everything together and then decide what to do next, and who would do what part. With a little luck... they would now have time to concentrate on the matter at hand... without interruptions.

And there was still the mystery of Alisaunne! Where had Darius found her? Had he known what she was or not? The girl thankfully had not realized that any of them were immortal. She just thought that Ian was like her and healed quickly. It seemed best to leave it at that for the moment. As for why Nestor had wanted her and what he'd done to her... the girl seemed to be blocking a lot of that out. When she was ready... Methos would leave it to Duncan and Ian to answer her questions. She was not his concern... Eleanor and Derrick were.

It was early afternoon by the time they reached the estate. As he drove up the driveway... Methos could see Derrick sitting on the steps waiting for them... as if he knew they were coming. The boy raced to the parked vehicle, flinging his arms tightly about Eleanor and giving her a desperate hug as she got out.

"Hey, Little One," what's this for?" Eleanor asked him when he finally looked up at her.

"I missed you," he said simply.

For a moment Eleanor's face bore a wistful expression. Slowly she brushed a lock of sandy hair out of his eyes, then she leaned down and whispered in the boy's ear. "Want to know a secret?" Derrick nodded. "I missed you more." Eleanor hugged him, then looked at Methos and reached out to include him in their embrace. For a long moment... the three of them stood united in the afternoon sun.

***

Cassandra lowered the binoculars and smiled. Methos and his whore had returned. When they'd left... she'd considered burning the house down then.. but the boy was still there. Taking him with her was something else she'd considered. She could kill the old man and grab the boy. But that hadn't felt quite right to her. If she grabbed the boy... he would fight her... and she needed him to trust her.

The boy needed to survive. This she was certain of. And in his future he needed Ellie. That posed a problem. How best to separate them? Cassandra had failed to turn the girl against Methos. Watching them just now... she'd realized they were lovers. It wasn't one-sided. But Methos had to be lying to the girl. He must not have told her all the truth... else she would not love him. She could not love him!

Inside Cassandra seethed. _Justice must be done!_ The voice she kept hearing had to be that of her visions. But other than her brief dream that had seen Methos on his knees before her and the vision of Derrick grown with Eleanor at his side... she'd seen nothing. And even her crystal was gone now. Strange how it was now _her_ crystal. She'd held it so briefly and it had told her nothing. But it shown the boy something... something he'd feared. Losing Eleanor!

Cassandra slipped further back into the woods to watch and wait. A chance would come. And she would be ready.


	84. Chapter 80

****

Chapter 80

Duncan arrived the following day. Methos had given him clear instructions and the Highlander had not wanted to wait. He'd returned Alisaunne to her school where she'd learned three nuns and one of her school friends had died... and horribly. She'd shuddered... understanding full well what Nestor had done to them, but she'd promised to say nothing about what had happened to her, at least not to them.

If she needed to talk... if she needed anything... Duncan would be there to help. Or he would arrange for whatever she needed.

Alisaunne's immediate plans were to graduate and move on over to the _universite'_. Already she was begging Ian to join her there. "Surely your classes and grades would get you in?" she'd insisted. Ian had looked at MacLeod and shrugged. Perhaps he could manage it he had said softly. "And we could be on the fencing team together." Ian had raised his eyebrows and shrugged. His arm was still a little numb... but it was mending. Perhaps with time he'd get full feeling and control back. Meanwhile... he'd be practicing left-handed.

After saying goodbye, Duncan and Ian had gone to the barge where they'd had several long talks. Evidently the boy hadn't known there was anything special about her... other than the way she made him feel. "I never really loved a girl before MacLeod. What do I do now?"

"Love her for now. Be there for her when she needs you. Help her when she finally remembers all that happened to her."

"And when she grows older and notices I'm still a young man... what do I tell her then?"

"Face that day when it comes Ian Daffyd... Meanwhile she needs someone to keep an eye on her while she's at school. You can do that. Tell her only what she needs to know... and I won't be far. We'll watch her together. The doctor or I can produce whatever records you need to get in. I sometimes teach classes there... I have some pull. We'll manage."

In talking to Joe... Duncan had managed to keep a lot of what happened from him... at least about the girl. As always, the Highlander thought it was far more important for pre-immortals to have a chance at a normal life without Watchers hanging around. True... the girl was unusual... but other than her healing abilities... Duncan hadn't a clue as to what made her unusual. Phillip hadn't seemed to know for certain... and Methos had said nothing. But Duncan intended on getting some answers from him this time. Had he sensed something when they'd first met the girl? Duncan hadn't... at least nothing beyond her pre-immortal status.

"Thanks for all your help, Joe. Now take it easy and get better. I'll see you soon," he'd said in saying goodbye to his friend. He missed having the old Watcher around to talk to. Joe planned to return to Paris when he was able. Duncan hoped he'd see him then.

"If you see Ellie," Joe had said before ringing off, "Tell her to call me when she can." MacLeod had promised.

Alighting from Amanda's _Ferrari_ in the driveway of the French estate house Duncan waved at Derrick racing about the yard after some kittens. Eleanor sat on the steps, dressed in jeans, turtleneck, and flannel shirt. About her neck was the runestone on its gold chain. Duncan chuckled. She still seemed a ragamuffin child sometimes, but she seemed far better than she had yesterday. He hadn't told Joe about her being there when they'd killed Nestor. He hadn't wanted to worry Joe with the details of what Nestor had done to her. Duncan was glad to see that the bite had healed finally and that the bruise had already faded. Strange to think of an immortal who healed so slowly. He'd heard of a few over the centuries who were like that... and wondered if it had to do with living for long periods without taking a quickening. He had some questions for her as well. 

As he opened his arms to give her a friendly hug... he thought he felt someone else. Looking around, Duncan asked, "Where's Methos?"

"Inside doing some research. Did you bring the other laptop and our bags?" Duncan opened the trunk and handed her the computer. 

"Everything that was there is here. Even Phillip's stuff." He looked around.

"Phillip's gone." Ellie looked at him soberly. "He needed time by himself to think. We'll go through his stuff and send him what he needs. As for the rest..." she shrugged. "We can donate it or store it."

Duncan nodded as he closed the trunk lid. Derrick approached with a grin.

"I have a kitten..." 

Duncan tousled the boy's hair. "I've missed our chess games." He was glad to see the boy's enthusiastic nod. "Maybe we'll play later... I brought a set."

Inside Derrick set the kitten down and went running for Adam.

"How much does he know?" Duncan said, setting the bags down.

"He knows we are immortal. He thinks he's not. I don't think he's really figured it all out yet. The three of us shared a vision in an old seeing stone we can show you, but he says he didn't learn anything."

"And those old memories?"

Eleanor shrugged, "I haven't really seen anything else recently." Her face lit up as Methos entered the hallway.

"Nice place," Duncan said looking around appreciatively.

Ellie had stepped toward Methos who was hugging her. Duncan smiled, _Those two must have some history together._ "Joe says 'Hello' by the way."

Eleanor grinned back at him, "How is he?"

"Healing slowly, but healing. He'd appreciate a phone call," Duncan said pointedly and winked.

Ellie nodded. "I'll see what I can do. I just couldn't while we were traveling, while he was still in the hospital, and then things got so crazy so fast... there hasn't really been time."

"Make time. Mortals die all too soon. Don't go too long without talking to him" Duncan said.

"Right..." interjected Methos with a smirk. "Now then... let's see what we have."

The two men went to work sorting through the information they did have. For once, Methos was fairly open about the questions MacLeod had, and filled him in on several points. But, Duncan still felt he was keeping many secrets.

As for the girl? Methos had shrugged. "I sensed a strong potential in her... I had once heard a legend about a child who would be born immortal to immortals... but until Phillip called... I hadn't even considered that's what she was.... nor what that might mean. MacLeod I have no idea who she is or where she came from or that Darius knew of her. Unless there is something in the original research that isn't on the computer disc... or in the letters we still need to get... or in these other papers he sent me shortly before he died... I don't know that we'll ever know."

MacLeod looked at the papers. "Looks a little like a map," he finally said.

"Yes, but a map to what?" I've been trying to get a location for it for years... with no luck. I don't even know what I'm supposed to be looking for."

"Why the **_Les Miserables_**?" Duncan held it up.

Methos reached for it and thumbed through it. "I'm not certain. But he was always reading this. I thought perhaps he might have marked something or left something in it."

Duncan shook his head. "I've read it three times since he died. I never noticed anything."

"A dead end then perhaps."

"Or just a book." Duncan grinned, "Sometimes a good book is just a good book!" He arched his eyebrows and bulged his eyes out in a smirk.

Methos groaned. "Remind me to give you humor lessons someday. Your delivery is atrocious." He tossed the book to one side and the two men returned to collating the information they did have.

***

Derrick watched them covertly from the doorway for a moment and then smiled to himself as he quietly sought out Eleanor. He wasn't certain about a lot of things as yet, his memory still had some huge gaps, but he did know that if Duncan and Methos worked together... they could solve the puzzles. He could leave it in their hands for the moment. He headed into the kitchen where Eleanor was attempting to make some soup. His job right now was to keep an eye on her... or the soup would be inedible.

He climbed up on the counter near the stove to watch her. When she picked up the salt he stopped her. "Nope... Adam said to let you put the vegetables in the broth but not to let you add anything else."

"But soup needs salt," she said insistently.

"Yeah... but he'll add the salt after while."

Ellie stirred the pot, and then walked away in a huff. Behind her, Derrick lowered the heat and covered the pot. He'd have to be certain she didn't let it burn either. Meals around here were going to have to be a collaboration. Derrick shook his head. Life was going to be interesting for a while. Very interesting!

***

Outside on the hillside, far beyond the immortals' sensing range, Cassandra watched and waited surprised that they remained here. She had assumed that once Methos knew she had been here they would vanish. It was the house she wanted to burn right now. Should she move on and burn others? No... that had been her original plan... but the voice was keeping her here. "_Justice!_" it whispered in the darkness. "_Justice for your people! Justice for you!_" With Duncan here as well, perhaps things would move along. What she needed was to get Methos alone somehow. If Duncan spent time with the boy tomorrow... perhaps she'd have her chance. 

Cassandra would have her justice.


	85. Chapter 81

****

Chapter 81

It was still dark when Derrick climbed out of bed and padded softly down the hall. He paused outside Duncan's door and listened to the snoring. No problem there! From Methos' and Eleanor's room he could still hear some rustling and low laughter. He grinned. "_Did those two ever sleep?_" He backed away and then stood silently in case he'd been detected. Evidently not! Satisfied, Derrick headed downstairs and into the study where Methos and Duncan had worked far into the evening.

Although he'd hung around a bit... he really hadn't gotten a look at how far they'd gotten. It wasn't that he actually knew what they needed to do... or what the answers were... just that they were there. Everything was there. He did remember that.

He settled into the desk chair and opened the laptop. When it lit up, he carefully began checking the progress of the "game." The two men hadn't really paid any attention to that today and Derrick saw nothing in what was there, that helped him remember anything of use.

From the glow of the computer screen he tried to look at the papers they had spread out. He shifted through them and stared at the one Methos thought was a map. Derrick nodded... it _was_ a map... but to read it they needed the coordinates. For the life of him... Derrick couldn't recall what they were... nor where they were.

At a snap of a twig outside, Derrick stiffened. Then the boy reached over and closed the laptop, leaving him in darkness. He could sense no one... no threat... but then he wasn't really an immortal yet. Aja had said that part of it would take time. He was still years away from that... at least he hoped so.

Silently Derrick stood and crossed to the window. He stared out at the yard and tried to feel and listen for anything out of the ordinary... but he felt nothing.

With a sense of unease, the boy returned to his room and settled once more into bed. He had a feeling sleep might prove elusive this night.

***

By mid-morning Duncan made the decision to head to Waterloo to see what he could find. He asked Derrick to come along, but the boy shrugged and seemed disinterested. Duncan wondered if he'd been sleeping all right. Derrick looked tired and a little pale this morning. His usual grin and high spirits seem dampened somehow. The Highlander had thought a trip to the battlefield might shake some memory loose if there were one to be shaken... but perhaps another time.

"Take my vehicle," Methos said handing him the keys. "From what Eleanor tells me... there could be quite a load if it _is_ all there, and I don't think that _Ferrari_ will hold too much."

"Just don't drive it while I'm gone." Duncan smirked handing him Amanda's keys. "If you wreck it... Amanda will have my head."

"Be still my beating heart!" came Methos' sardonic reply complete with smirk.

Duncan pulled out of the driveway.

As he left, Derrick rubbed his hands over the _Ferrari_ and grinned. "Shall we see how fast she goes?"

Methos considered it. "It would be fun. Maybe later." He chuckled at the thought of MacLeod sputtering at some slight damage to the car and what he could say to the Highlander to really rub it in.

Eleanor came out of the house wearing the over-sized jacket over her flannel shirt. "Derrick! Let's take a walk!" She reached out for the boy and blew Methos a kiss. "I've been cooped up too long... like Phillip I want some fresh air!" She waved at him over her shoulder as she and the boy took off down the gravel drive toward the road.

Methos watched them go doing a little kick routine like a couple of kids. Eleanor definitely felt better. That meant they could leave here as early as tomorrow. Good! He was nervous about remaining here much longer. The threat that Cassandra might pose was unacceptable. Methos stared after the duo and then glanced around at the nearby woods. Soberly he went back inside to work on the research again. He really wanted to get a handle on it so that he could leave most of it in MacLeod's hands. Methos wanted to get out of here before much longer and vanish with Eleanor and Derrick. With his home in London gone... he saw little reason to keep up the pretense of being "on point" as he thought of it. Let MacLeod be the center of the Watchers' attention for a while. The Highlander was made for it.

Although he'd originally planned for Phillip to take Eleanor and Derrick to Niebos where he could join them occasionally, he'd seen the sadness in Phillip's eyes after they'd killed Nestor. His friend needed some time alone right now. Besides, Methos found he was strangely reluctant to bid Eleanor _adieu_ this time. Even with the bond and their being able to sense one another no matter where they were, he didn't really wish to be away from her. There was something about his choosing her survival over his own that pulled at him. He wanted to stay close to her to be certain that when the moment came... he could save her.

He was busy entering some of the new data onto the computer and using a map program to try different sets of coordinates to get the rough hand-drawn map to work. Part of his problem was he didn't even know what scale it was... or if it were even drawn to scale. 

He felt an approaching presence and the sound of the front door closing. Assuming Eleanor had returned for something he sent a particularly suggestive image in her direction and was surprised that she was confused... she and Derrick were still on their way down the gravel path. Startled Methos looked up as Cassandra came running in at him swinging the great sword.

Methos fell backwards from the chair to both avoid the swing and to be able to grab the chair to use as a shield. He lifted it before him and backed away. "Cassandra... you do not want to do this!"

"Don't I?" She slashed at the chair. One leg was sheared away. 

Like a lion tamer, Methos circled about her as he feinted and blocked her movements. Finally, seeing an opening, he shoved the chair in her direction as she swung again. He managed to get her partially caught in the three remaining legs and shoved her against the nearest wall. "Drop the sword, Cassandra... I am not your enemy!"

Cassandra's eyes blazed as green as he'd ever seen Eleanor's. Strange... he'd never really noticed that her eyes had been green before... or perhaps it had never mattered to him. "I will have justice!" She screamed as she attempted to raise the sword again. Once more he shoved the chair against her so that her arms were pinned.

"Justice? Cassandra... you are fighting a battle that ended thousands of years ago. We were different people then. The world has changed. We've changed. Why won't you accept that?"

She spat in his face.

Behind him Methos felt Eleanor coming at a run. Derrick was following closely behind her.

"Stay back!" he yelled at them. "Stay out of this!" Then he focused on Cassandra seeking some way to reach her through the madness that had taken hold of her. Vindictive, yes... she was vindictive... but this was more than that... This was the madness of the Ancients from that first slaughter of the people. She was a victim of that ancient vision that clung to the sword and whispered only of what it had once known. He knew it for what it was now... and it no longer called to him. He'd already lived that time through his bond with Eleanor. Together they had chosen to accept the distant past but to refuse to let it rule them any longer.

"Cassandra," Methos said softly. "Put the sword down."

She calmed for a moment, as if seeing him as he was now and not as he had been. For the first time, she seemed to really see him. Cassandra stopped struggling. She lowered the sword.

Once he was certain she was calm, Methos slowly pulled the chair back and backed away. He focused all of his attention on her... ready to move once more if she tried again.

Cassandra lifted one hand to her head and shook it slightly as if to banish something only she could hear. Methos knew that feeling. It had taken him years to ignore that insistent voice. How many had he killed with it? How many times had it been easier to lop off a head... even a mortal one... than deal with real justice. He glanced momentarily at Eleanor recalling the band of outlaws he'd slaughtered with it for what they'd done to her. And his excesses had only driven her away from him.

"We can help you Cassandra... if you let us." Eleanor reached out her hand and took a step toward Cassandra. The psychic glared at her... suddenly flexing the great sword in her hands once more.

Methos tossed the chair away and knelt. This was the moment. He knew it. If he failed... Eleanor would die.

***

Duncan MacLeod braked to a sudden stop. A voice whispered in his head urgently. "_Go back! Now!_" Quickly he turned the car around and headed back the way he'd come. He didn't even try to figure it out. He could sense the desperation and urgency in the voice. He floored the accelerator and raced back to the estate, praying that this time... he would be in time.


	86. Chapter 82

****

Chapter 82

Cassandra suddenly glared at Methos. She adjusted her stance and lifted the great sword with a grim determination to end this once and for all. Yet, even as she did so... one thought crossed her mind... "_Killing him is too easy... he needs to suffer as I have suffered._"

From outside the house she sensed MacLeod's approach and could hear him yelling. He'd be here soon... but he could not interfere in what she would now do... none of them could.

Cassandra's eyes took in the slight movement of Derrick starting toward her. Eleanor pulled him back and shifted the boy behind her. The look on her face was one of utter peace. Eleanor once more reached out one hand toward Cassandra and motioned with her fingers for the sword.

Cassandra closed her eyes and dug deep within herself for the cold hard knot of emptiness and hatred at her core. Finding it... she knew just what she had to do... _Methos must lose everything!_ She screamed and turned... thrusting the great sword deeply into Eleanor's chest.

Methos' cry of anguish filled the air, "Noooo!" He clasped his own chest as if the sword had entered there.

From the hall she heard MacLeod's voice cry out in horror. "Cassandra... what have you done?"

Cassandra pulled back the sword and watched as Eleanor reached down in wonder at the blood pouring from her wound. Already her face paled and her eyes were losing the spark of consciousness. Slowly she began to collapse.

"Eleanor!" cried Derrick who tried to hold her... but she continued to fall.

Cassandra readied for the final blow, "This pays for all!" she spat at Methos. "You took everything from me... now I take everything from you!" She swung the sword toward Eleanor's exposed neck only to find the boy in her way.

His blue eyes widened slightly... but there was no fear there. If Eleanor were to die... he would die with her. Of what use was his future if she was not there? 

Cassandra halted the blade inches from Derrick's neck. "Move..." Cassandra begged the boy. " I don't want you! It's not your time!"

Derrick said nothing. He simply looked at Cassandra and held Eleanor's dead body close to him. 

"Nooo!" Cassandra lowered the sword and screamed into the air. Even as she did so... MacLeod leapt forward to restrain her and pull her away from the fallen immortal and her small guardian. 

Methos crawled quickly to Eleanor's side and pulled her body into his lap. He stroked her hair and shook with relief. Derrick put his arms around them both, crying as well.

MacLeod spoke harshly into Cassandra's ear. "Drop the sword Cassandra! Let it go! Let the sword go... let your hatred go... let it all go!"

"Never!" she screamed and attempted to once more wield the blade... but MacLeod held her tightly.

"How can one so old and so wise not have learned that we have to let the past go," he said quietly. "If you leave no room in your heart for anything but hatred and revenge... it will eat away at you until there is nothing left."

"What would you know? What have you lost?" Cassandra struggled once more... but could not free herself from MacLeod's arms.

Suddenly he loosed his grip on her and grabbing her arms... turned her to face him. "What do I know? What have I lost? My father disowned me! I killed my teacher! I killed my student! I've killed my friends over the years! And for what? For some prize that we're all supposed to fight for? I've lost everyone who ever really mattered to me! Now... all I can do is live and honor their memories and face an uncertain and lonely future. Let the past go Cassandra! Let it go or it will consume you!" He pushed her away. "Don't make me kill you too." He pulled his _katana_ from his coat and gazed at her sadly.

Cassandra glanced down at the great sword in her hands as though it were a living thing. When she looked into MacLeod's eyes she saw only that honest and stubborn determination to do what needed to be done. He was the champion... the protector... She had known this since he was a boy. To her left Methos continued to cradle Eleanor's body as if he had truly lost her. Derrick's gaze slowly met hers and the boy rose... walking to her with an outstretched hand.

"The sword is mine Cassandra..." He reached for it as she let it fall into his hand. The boy held it close and regarded her solemnly. "It always was."

As soon as she let it go... Cassandra felt her rage pass. There was still no peace in her heart... or compassion for Methos. But she would let him live. Once more she would walk away and he would live. Not for his sake... but for MacLeod's because he wished it. For Derrick's sake because he asked it. For Eleanor's sake... because she needed Methos and Derrick needed her.

Cassandra tossed her wild mane of hair, "One day... he will turn on all of you... and you will remember that I could have ended it." She took a deep breath, pivoted and stormed out of the house... Behind her she could hear a collective sigh of relief. 

Methos hugged Eleanor's still body to him and waited. As yet, he could sense nothing... but it had always taken her so very long to come back... even that first time. He would wait... and this time... he would not let her leave... he would not let her push him away. He would be here. When she awoke... the first thing she would know was that he was here... he was holding her... he would never let her go. As he had the last time, he whispered to her, "Come back to me" and reached out through their bond to somehow let her know.

He felt Derrick's hand on his shoulder. The boy gave him a slight squeeze, then let go and turned to MacLeod. "Let's you and I take a long walk Duncan... We have some things to discuss."

Duncan nodded and placed a protective arm about the boy as they walked out into the morning sunshine. Yes... there were quite a few things they needed to discuss. Derrick knew there were many things he could not tell the Highlander... Not yet! But, there were a few things his old friend needed to know. Perhaps he should take that drive with Duncan to Waterloo after all. And then... Derrick glanced back at the immortals on the floor, he needed to be with them... He needed to still be a child for them for a little while longer... but maybe he could let Duncan in on some of it... just a little bit... After all... Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod was the champion. He still had an important roll to play in the future. Besides, Derrick thought Duncan would like sharing in a secret that he could keep from Methos for a while. It might be fun for him to know more than the elder immortal just this once. Not all the truth, of course, but a little of it. Derrick smiled with amusement. He did love his little games.

***

Methos waited. 

Finally as the shadows shortened into late morning, Eleanor took in a small almost painful breath and whimpered slightly. He held her tightly and lay his cheek next to hers murmuring in the long-lost Gaelic of her youth, "I'm here Aella... I'm here."

"Edward..." she whispered and turned in his arms slightly. "It hurts so much... I always forget how much it hurts."

"Shh... I'm here... the pain will pass..."

"Edward... take me home... I want to go home..."

Methos smiled and nodded, "That would be nice. I think maybe this time... we should go home."

***

Three days later, Methos pulled to a stop on a ridge overlooking a small farm in an isolated Scottish glen. Below in the fields... a small herd of horses lazily moved about. A modest farmhouse... a bit reminiscent of an ancient villa in its style nestled beneath tall oak trees. Wildflowers sprinkled color in the long grass, and the buzzing of bees from the hives could be heard as a low hum on the breeze.

"Horses!" cried the boy and ginned. "Can you teach me to ride Adam?"

Methos laughed, "I think that can be arranged."

"Can I get out to see them?"

Methos nodded.

"Be careful Derrick," Eleanor called as the boy exited the car. She was still pale and pain was still evident in her expression as she shifted to watch Derrick.

Methos stroked her hair. Already he saw a few more stands of gray there than yesterday... and yesterday there had been more than the day before. "He'll be fine..."

"It's amazing how much the same and yet how different it all looks." She looked at him sadly. "How long do you think we'll have before someone finds us? Or before... "

"He lifted her left hand to his lips and kissed her fingers, thoughtfully rubbing his thumb over her gold ring. "Hopefully long enough. MacLeod won't tell anyone where we've gone... not even Joe. The Watchers will search... but I've made certain over the centuries that there was never anything to tie me to this place. All we can do Aella is make the most of whatever time we have."

She smiled and tears brimmed in her eyes. She freed her hand from his and stroked his chin with a smile. Her fingers trailed down onto the symbols still visible on his neck. "Time... we wasted so much of it... there's so little left... Let's not waste a moment more."

Methos leaned over to kiss his wife... a long, slow, deep kiss... the kind he knew she liked.


	87. Epilogue

****

Epilogue

__

Paris 1985

Even as he entered the hidden grove from the secret entrance that connected to the old church, Darius felt Eleanor's lilting nearness upstairs. He smiled. She had returned to Paris once more. Swiftly and with a smile he climbed the old stone stairs and entered their hidden quarters.

It had been four years since she'd last been in Paris and in that time... Darius had been surprised at how much he'd missed seeing her. They'd managed finally... after so many years... to find their way back to friendship and an easy teasing banter. She had seemed in the last few decades to finally find peace of mind and he... he had at last begun to accept the reality of the strange connection between them. Some part of Aja, the Ancient, lived in each of them.

Her door was open and he crossed swiftly... ready to welcome her home. But he stopped at the doorway and though there was a sudden pang in what he saw... he managed a look of amusement and quietly placed his hands within his sleeves.

Eleanor was just putting the finishing touches on her attire. Her shoulder-length black hair seemed almost like a great cloud about her head. It swished and curled about as she ran her fingers through it and gazed at her reflection in the small cracked mirror. She even had on a touch of makeup... something she so rarely did. Her green silk sheath with it's darker green abstract symbols was only slightly more green than her eyes... and very revealing, It covered her only in such a way that it seemed to invite the touch of a hand to assist in its removal. She glanced back at him with a teasing smile and arched her eyebrows. Then she struck a pose.

"What do you think?" she teased.

"I somehow don't think you dressed that way for me," Darius said lightly. "You must have a date."

"Of course silly." Eleanor turned once more to the mirror and shifted back and forth. "I'm meeting Methos later." She fluffed her hair and then shook her head.

"Oh... is that all." Darius turned with a casualness he did not feel, toward his worktable and began to shift through the pages laying on the surface. "I didn't realize he was in Paris these days."

Eleanor followed him and carefully arranged herself on his work-table as she crossed her legs. Her eyes blazed with a joy and peace he'd not seen in them for centuries. "Only just arrived. He's just begun working inside the Watchers as a historian these days. But he called and said he needed to see me... apologize for what happened last time... and so..." her voice trailed off teasingly. She suddenly thrust her short legs straight out before her and stared at her bare feet. "Do you think heels would be appropriate?"

Darius had laughed, shaking his head. "Do you honestly think your appearance means anything to him. I'm certain he would approve of whatever you were wearing... or not wearing."

"Maybe if I dress as though it might... he'd know how I truly feel." Darius heard the wistful edge to her words. "I need to tell him... I need to chance it and see what he says. I need to trust him Darius... I love him. Now... if only he'll love me... really admit he loves me." She shifted position and met his gaze. "Am I wicked, Darius? Is that why I love him even though I know some of what he once was. His dark past entices me... and awakens the darkness within me as if it were my own. Sometimes in my dreams... I seem to ride with him across the desert in a world I never saw. He's dangerous... to me and to my precarious peace of mind... but I do love him."

"Are you certain it is love?" Darius asked her, feeling a tinge of regret.

She'd leaned toward him then, grinning. "Do you think I don't know the difference? I love you... you do know that, don't you?" she teased.

Darius nodded. A small smile played across his lips.

A solemn expression crossed her face once more. "But I love him as well. For too long I've waited for one of you to make a move. You my dearest friend appear to be a lost cause. So...tonight... well... I have made my choice... and I will live with it. If he turns me away... then I will leave him be... but if he finally makes a move... I rather think I'm finally ready. There's something strong between Methos and me... something... old." She kissed him briefly on the cheek, then wiped away the smudge of lipstick that remained. "So... heels?" She laughed and Darius nodded with a small laugh.

As she was on the way out the door, he made one final request, "After dinner... before you two get too caught up in the moment... come see me. I'll be at the west transept at _Notre Dame_."

Eleanor turned, "Why?"

"To offer a blessing," Darius said with a smile.

Eleanor laughed and left with a shrug and a wave. "Sure... We'll see you there."

She was gone then and Darius knew she was truly gone. He'd had the chance and had not taken it. As with so many other chances... he had let them slip by. He'd waited for her to make the choice... and now she had done so. He would accept her decision. Why had he insisted on seeing them together?

"_Because it is necessary!_"

"What is necessary?" Darius said aloud to the empty room, knowing he spoke only to that small pearl that had resided quietly within him for so long.

"_You will know!_" came the reply. 

***

Darius waited in the shadows of the west transept. It had always been one of his favorite spots. On Thursday nights he could listen to the organist practice and sometimes one of the choirs. Here in the shadows no one saw him. His Watcher, he knew, had no idea he ever left his church after dark and slipped through the sewers to emerge here. From here he could go many places and check on many things going on in Paris... as he had done for so long.

But tonight... it was not the music that had brought him, nor the need to check on his people or their activities. He was here to usher in the future. If Methos and Eleanor had truly made their peace with one another... if they both had truly chosen to love one another... he would know. But he had to see them together.

The voices within had spoken to him only rarely in eight hundred years. When he'd faced the stalker in the sewers... the one who'd come bearing his own sword... the voices had rejoiced and told him to accept their long lost brother into himself as he had accepted them. He'd stepped forward in the knowledge of what would happen... knowing that it was by that choice that the three would be re-united.

But Eleanor had interfered. And in the madness that had taken her... she'd lost her way. Torn by the desire to kill him and the desire to love him... she'd run from him. True she kept returning... as she had always returned... but it had never been the same. The chance for unity seemed lost. He knew it was not him she needed so much as the peace that dwelled within him. But the only way to unify the ancients and to end their division was the one way that would destroy Eleanor forever. Darius feared that if he allowed her to kill him... her mind would never recover. And he knew... he could not kill her.

So it was he had remained on holy ground... watching and waiting for the moment when he knew she'd be able to face the future without him. Recently he had realized that there was another way... but that it would take Methos as well.

The artifacts and old records had begun to reveal themselves to him... oh they were still mainly a puzzle he feared he would never solve... but he had come to understand one portion of their secrets. In an instant a few days ago... he'd understood one of the great mysteries of immortality. It had stunned him in its complexity and its simplicity. "Of course!" he'd said to the empty room. "That makes perfect sense." But there had been no way to test it... now there might be.

He felt them approach. He could hear their laughter and see the glow in Eleanor's face and the joy in Methos'. It seemed they would attempt this reconciliation and this time... it might well work. Darius felt a pang of regret for what he would now do. To test his theory he would have to destroy this chance for their happiness. He hoped they would both forgive him one day. He hoped he would have the chance to explain. If this were real for them... they'd find one another again... perhaps in only a few years. But first... 

Darius gave a slight wave as they crossed into the shadows.

He greeted them both with a smile. "Come my friends... I've brought some mead... Join me in a toast to the future."

So they had sat there on holy ground, drinking mead and telling stories... and wishing Phillip were there. In the end, when their eyes were slightly glazed from the mead, Darius had embraced them both and sent them away... He'd know tomorrow if it had worked. He'd know... and one day... they would too. Drained and alone... Darius returned to his church and awaited the future.

We are shaping the space

And harvesting places

We're the princes of the universe

We are living together

In the here-everafter

In the temple of the evening s[u]n

We're the princes of the universe.

~from _Shaping Space_ by Kevin Max

#30#

Author's Afterword:

As with most second movements of a trilogy... this was a decidedly dark journey. Although the last chapter was written very early in the writing stage... with Methos, Eleanor and Derrick returning to Scotland, the journey to get them there took me into some very dark places. And characters lived who were supposed to have died... and characters died, who I had wanted to see live. My original outline was in shambles. It took longer to edit the story into a cohesive whole... than to actually write it.

The character of Nestor did not spring fully developed from my mind. He grew in the writing and as chapter by chapter his watching and the suspense about him grew... so too did my understanding of who he was and why he was that way. His depravity had to be truly evil for there to be a reason for his continued survival. The dark quickening aspect came fairly late in the writing stage... although it seems readily apparent. His relationship with Phillip came to me in one of those sudden understandings that writers sometimes get. It explained so much about my Greek soldier and why he so desperately wants to live each day fully as if it were his last.

The bond between Eleanor and Methos was based partially in the comments of Ramirez to Connor MacLeod in the original film... that all immortals are connected... that all life is connected. Aja's death and her ability to focus her life-force into a single moment likewise grew out of Ramirez' death in the second film. Although much of that film is usually regarded as a dream or a non-existent story... there are some truths and some moments in it that are truly mesmerizing. The idea of a community of immortals came from the Season One episode "Bad Day in Building A" when Duncan tells a frightened little girl a fairy story about a world where people lived forever in communities filled with harmony and peace. Although the episode is not one of the better ones of the series... I have always loved that particular image.

Alisaunne has always been a part of my story... as was her mysterious background... that of a child born immortal to immortal parents... a child whose birth would usher in the final Gathering... a child who was the key to the Prize. The problem was in figuring out a way to bring her story into this reality, and whether or not readers would even accept this particular story element. I finally decided to go for it and let the recriminations fall where they might. The next story will deal with her origins more clearly.

As for Methos and Eleanor... I will give them a few years together. When next we meet... we will have done the time warp dance and moved ahead a few years. I already have the outline. After all... there are still a number of things they have yet to puzzle out: 

(1) the meanings of the writings on the cave of the Ancient hidden below Darius' church; 

(2) the map coordinates and what they will find there; 

(3) the final understanding of Darius' research that even he never solved completely; and 

(4) the truth about Alisaunne and what the future might hold for all immortals.

I had hoped to deal with at least one of these in this story... but alas... Nestor interfered and I decided to hold that story section for next time as it made no sense to try for it in this one. Rest assured gentle readers, we shall deal with at least two of them in the next book, and we shall all arrive at the end of the road someday soon.

I invite and look forward to all your comments.

The 45 Symbols

For those interested in the patterns, although I do not know exactly what they looked like (I still lean toward some Mayan glyph rather than Celtic rune but I could be wrong), I do know what they mean. Here's a list for those attempting to keep score. Even the chapter titles of _Crossroads of Time_ were in effect, some of the symbols. Because of the length of the last two stories, I decided to forego chapter titles for section titles. The careful reader will note that the section titles also reflect the patterns and their juxtaposition one against another. Not all have been explored yet. Where some immortals clearly represent a particular symbol... I have placed their name in parenthesis. Some symbols were also given a different name in some stories or a further name based on what they meant.

1.-- 2. water (cradle of life)--fire (instrument of change)

3.--4. earth--air (the unknown)

5.--6. light; day--darkness; night

7.--8. love--hate

9.--10. life--death (rebirth)

11.--12. promise, trust--betrayal

13.--14. (Aja, first daughter); guardian--(Kritis, first-born); craftsman; builder

15.--16. (Methos) scholar, knowledge-- warrior, (Darius)

17.--18. (Gael) healer--outcast; liar; lies (Nestor)

19.--20. (Morannon) judge; balance--champion (MacLeod)

21.--22. creation (meetings, beginnings)--destruction (endings)

23.--24. chaos--order; patience

25.--26. loss; despair--comfort; gain; hope; joy (Aella)

27.--28. people--others

29.--30. (Sofaer) compassion--indifference

31.--32. desire (hunger); the devourer--fear; avoidance

33.--34. (O ro' dred) friend--enemy

35.--36. home; destination--journey

37.--38. (D'jann) seeker, questions--answers; truth

39.--40. (Nin) vengeance; consequences--mercy 

41.--42. (Havron)prophet; vision; dreamer--speaker, teller of tales; holder of memories (Phillip)

43. Choice

44.--45. Now and for all time---all things are one


End file.
